4-Z- 


« 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 


Mrs.   Jefferson  P.  Chandler 


n 


//. 


JA-^ 


^^?<*^  <:^2:-^r-«^ 


IIASKINS'  POEMS.  -^  ^' 


\  ^  % 


4 


w 


^^^^,* 


X 


)^« 


'k  • 


N# 


V. 


Of},.  -^. 


-^^  t'.i 


A  THE 


POETICAL  soils'' 


OF 


JAMES  HASKRTS,  A.  B,  M.  B., 

TRIN.  COLL.  DUBLIN.     ^^\^ 
i'   ■  ■)  ^?^-. 

^"^^^■* 

EDITED  ^ii^v, 

BY  HENRY     BALDWIN,    A.M.  '^^^^ 

OF    OSGOODE    HALL,     V.   C.    BARRISTER    AT    LAW. 


HARTFORD. 
IL  S.  PARSONS,  6,  CENTRAL  ROW. 

1848. 


Entored  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  die"  year  1848.  Iiy 

11.  S.  PARSONS, 

ill  the  Clork's  Office  of  tlic  District  Court  of  Connecticut. 


4759 

HGlAH 

/©4-B 


CONTENTS. 

MEMOIR.  9 

Sonnet  to  the  Memory  of  Dr.  Haskins.  19 

Editor's  Remarks.  22 

The  Author's  Address  to  tlie  Reader  of  the  Cross.  23 

THE  CROSS.  25 

Notes  on  the  Cross.  103 

HYMNS  AND  SACRED  POEMS.            •  105 

Notes  on  the  Hymns.  155 

SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE.  167 

Notes  on  do.  191 

OCCASIONAL  PIECES.  193 

The  Flowers  of  the  Grave.  195 

To  my  Heart.  196 

The  Farewell.  " 

The  Flowers  of  Paradise.  198 

Lasting  Love.  200 

We  shall  but  wake  to  Love.  203 
To  my  old,  tried,  aiwl  imthnching  Friend,  Henry  Baldwin,  Jr.  204 

To  my  Infant  Daughter.                                •  206 

Winter.  207 

The  Contrast.  209 

The  Stars.  210 

Tears  for  the  Dead.  211 

Musings  at  Midnifiht.  213 

Sorrow's  Vision.  214 

The  Christian's  Soliloquy.  217 

The  Home  of  Rest.  218 

1* 


VI  COXTE>TS. 


Paraphrase  of  Psalm  XLII.  220 

Fear.  221 

I'araphrase  of  tlie  Lord's  Prayer.  222 

Paraphrase  of  Psahn  XXIII.  223 

Notes  on  Occasional  Pieces.  225 

]\IISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  227 

Inscription.  238 

Tiie  Solitary.  22D 

Midnight.  230 

Thunder  at  Midnight.  231 

The  Sleep  of  Death.  232 

Tiie  Sting  of  Death.  233 

Pestilence.  235 

Death.  235 

Tiioughts  on  the  Past.  237 
Soiuiets. 

To  his  Brother.  239 

The  Loved  of  the  Earth.  240 

Aspirations.  241 
To  the  Wind. 

Temptation.  214 
The  Release. 

To  Health.  246 

Freedom.  247 

Nature's  Nobility.  248 

Thermopyla;.  249 

The  Dying  Soldier.  251 

The  Soldier's  Funeral.  253 

The  Defence  of  Dei^.  256 

The  Spires  of  Old  England.  259 

The  :Mourning  I^Iother.  261 

The  Wanderer  brought  hmue.  263 

Coming  to  Christ.  267 

ril  think  on  Tiiee.  26S 

The  Morning  Sun.  269 

Whiter.  272 


C05TENT*.  VS. 


Spring.  "273 

To  the  River  Trent.  275 

The  Birds  of  Spring.  277 

Itahan  Night  Scene.  278 

Night  Storm,  on  the  South  coast  of  Italy.  280 

^lorning,  on  the  coast  of  Caramania.  286 

TotlieSun.  287 

To  Time.  288 
Solitude. 

To  Homer.  289 

'■■  Virgil. 

"  Dante.  290 

'•  Tasso.  291 

'•  Milton. 

'=  Shakspsare.  ^^'^ 


"  Byron. 

"  Chatterton,  293 

'=  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson:  294 
On  Transcendentalism. 

Oa  Terza  Rima,  and  Sonnets.  295- 
On  the  Reading  of  Hexameter  Verse.'  " 

On  Philology.  296 

To  a  FriendPiiiloIogically  devoted,  297 

The  Friendship  of  the  World.  298 
Soarings  Aloft. 

On  Old  Age.  299 
To  Ireland. 

Pahnyra.  -  ^  302 

Belslmzzar.  304 

Peter  the  Hermit's  Address;-  307 

Jerusalem.  310 

TotheBUle.  312 

To  the  World.  313 

The  Burial  at  Sea.  " 

The  Dying  Bard.  315 

Notes  on  the  Miscellaneous  Poem)».  319 


MEMOIR. 


James  Hasxins,  the  Author  of  the  following  Poems,  was  a  na- 
tive of  Dublin.  He  was  born  in  the  year  1805.  His  father  was 
a  man  of  considerable  wealth  :  probably  one  of  the  richest  busi- 
ness men  in  that  elegant  city.  He  had  made  his  fortune  by  sup- 
plying the  Government  with  clothing,  for  the  troops.  Being  of  a 
most  liberal  disposition,  he  did  not  regard  his  gains  as  made  for 
mere  selfish  uses  ;  but  lived  in  the  true  style  of  Irish  hospitality. 
At  his  table,  many  attentive  friends  were  glad  to  find  themselves 
welcome,  while  his  prosperity  continued ;  and  while,  together  with 
more  solid  comforts,  they  could  enjoy,  (according  to  the  style  of 
those  days,)  abundance  of  the  best  wines,  at  no  cost  to  themselves. 
This  gentleman  was  the  heau  ideal  of  the  generous,  warm-heart- 
ed, whole-souled  Irishman.  lie  was  distinguished  for  humour : 
and  from  him  our  Poet  inherited  that  quality  m  a  scty  high  de»- 
gree. 

His  mother's  maiden  name  was  Kelly.  Very  iiille  information 
could  at  present  be  given,  as  regards  incident,  or  matter  of  fact, 
in  her  personal  history.  But  thus  much  the  Editor  would  be  most 
unwilling  to  omit.  There  is  in  existence  an  admirably  executed 
miniature  portrait  of  this  lady  :  of  which  we  may  remark — that 
notvvithstamling  the  effect  of  the  most  absurd  and  unnatural  fash- 
ion, (prevalent  in  licr  day.)of  covering  the  forehead  with  the  hair  : 
yet  the  intellectual  bnatUy  of  that  countenance  is  such  as  we  can- 
not adequately  describe.  This  miniature  possesses,  for  the  inti- 
mate friend,  at  least,  of  the  Poot;  one  charm  which  is  even  still 


X  MEMOIR. 

greater.     It  is  the  only  existing  me'mento,  or  in  a  qualified  sense, 
likeness,  or  resemblance  of  the  full  face  of  our  Poet  himself. 

From  his  mother  he  inherited  as  well  his  general  cast  and  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  features,  forehead,  and  general  contour 
of  his  head:  as  also  that  peculiar  temperament;  which  was' the 
iertile  source  of  keen,  and  deep  suffering,  during  his  pilgrimage 
through  this  vale  of  tears. 

Possessing  such  ample  means,  Mr.  Haskins  afforded  his  sons 
those  great  and  distinguished  advantages,  which  a  residence  in 
Dublin  pkced  at  his  door.  At  the  usual  time  of  life,  our  Author 
entered  the  University  of  Trinity  College.  It  is  not  in  our  power 
io  relate  many  incidents  of  his  Academic  course :  and  such  as 
laight  well  be  introduced  in  a  complete  Biography,  arc  here  of  ne- 
cessity passed  over.  The  fruits  of  such  intellectual  culture — 
vv'here  the  soil  was  so  worthy,  and  so  grateful — are  before  the 
Reader.  In  that  favoured  scat  of  Learning,  his  mind  became 
deeply  imbued  in  the  classics  of  Greece  and  Rojiie.  And  if  a 
long,  and  most  intimate  acquaintance  with  him,  in  mature  years, 
may  be  accepted  as  authorising  the  Editor  to  pronounce  his  opin- 
i6n  :  he  must  say — that  Dr.  Haskins  did  honor  to  his  Alma  Ma- 
ter.    In  his  case — 

"Ingenuas  didicisse  fideliter  artes" — was  no  dead  letter. 
Whatever  he  thought  worthy  of  learning,  was  most  faithfully 
treasured  up  in  the  stores  of  Memory. 

On  graduating  in  Arts,  he  entered  on  th&  study  of  Medicine. 
He  took  the  Bachelor's  degree  in  both  these.  He  also  studied 
Surgery  and  other  branches  of  Medical  Science,  with  equal  ad- 
vantages. 

Riches  "  make  themselves  wings  ;"  and  '•  fly  away."  It  must 
have  been  after  our  Author's  graduation,  or  at  all  events  after  the 


MEMOIR.  XI 

principal  part  of  the  expenses  of  a  College  course  had  been  de- 
frayed, that  a  change  look  place  in  his  fatlier's  circumstances. 
Some  such  untoward  events,,  as  occasionally  afTect  the  affairs  of 
the  most  prudent,brought  about  a  pecuniary  embarrassment ;  which 
in  a  little  time  could  have  been  entirely  got  over.  But  at  tliis 
juncture,  bad  advice  was  intruded ;  and  proved  fatal.  Mr.  Ilas- 
kins  was  not  under  any  necessity  of  becoming  bankrupt :  but  his 
friends  advised  him — nay  urged  him — to  allow  the '  Siatute\as  it 
is  there  expressed,)  to  be  issued;  and  in  an  evil  hour  for  his  worldly 
interests,  he  yielded.  The  effect  was  such  as  his  affairs  never  re- 
covered from. 

Now  his  friends  were  tried  ;  and,  as  usual,  found  wanting.  All 
turned  their  backs  on  him,  at  whose  expense  they  had  often  feast- 
ed. 

Deprived  of  the  advantages  which  his  former  circumstances 
liad  promised  for  the  commencement  of  a  professional  career ; 
and  influenced  by  various  considerations  which  cannot  now  be 
discussed.  Dr.  Haskins  had  recourse  to  the  honourable  occupation 
of  teacliing.  As  a  private  tutor  he  [ound  eligible  situations,  suc- 
cessively, in  several  most  respectable  families.  Changes  were 
necessarily  incident  to  such  a  mode  of  life.  He  resided  in  vari- 
ous parts  of  Ireland;  and  had  opportunities  of  visiting  the  most 
sublime,  and  the  most  beautiful,  of  those  diversified  scenes,  that 
charm  the  traveller  in  the  Emerald  Isle.  The  scenery  of  the 
County  of  VVicklow  was  his  flvvourite  topic  ;  when  conversing  on 
such  subjects. 

After  passing  some  years  in  this  way,  he  went  over  to  England  ; 
and  pursued  the  same  vocation  for  some  time  at  Clifton,  near  Bris- 
tol. Here  some  of  his  earlier  poems  were  written  ;  including  a 
few  that  lie  latterly  revised  and  improved.     At  one  time,  he  was 


XII  MEMOIR. 

Usher  in  some  con^iiderable  Academy.  The  laborious  nature  of 
the  duties  imposed  in  some  such  situations,  and,  indeed  the  impos- 
sibilities required  in  some  schools,  (according  to  the  system  ef 
tliose  days.)  seem  quite  sufficient  to  account  for  occasional  remo- 
vals. And  perhaps  it  is  a  rare  case,  for  a  man  to  find  himself  so 
comfortably  situated  in  any  such  place  ;  as  not  after  a  while — for 
the  sake  of  health,  or  comfort,  or  to  improve  his  pecuniary  circum- 
stances—  to  desire  a  change.  Eiit  for  one  who  has  attained  a 
learned  profession,  after  so  much  persevering  application,  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  abandon  all  tlie  advantages  thus  toiled  for,  and  lo 
rest  satisfied  in  an  inferior  and  subordinate  situation,  would  be  still 
less  natural. 

Dr.  ILiskins  returned  to  Ireland.  The  next  important  event 
that  we  have  to  notice  in  his  life,  is  his  emigration  froai  the  land 
of  his  nativity  to  Nortii  America. 

Perhaps  t'lis  may  be  considered  a  proper  occasion,  on  whicli  to 
introduce  some  description  of  our  Author's  character  and  turn  of 
mind:  his  views  in  determining  on  such  a  course  as  ihc  leaving 
the  elegant  city  of  Dublin,  and  the  friends  of  his  youth,  to  be- 
come a  Colonist  in  the  vvilds  of  Canada  ;  and  the  influence 
which  was  tlius  exerted  on  his  after  life. 

Ilis  father  had  designed  liim  for  the  ^Ministry.  They  were 
members.cf  the  Church  of  England.  Had  notour  Author  been 
such,  he  could  not,  in  those  days,  have  entered  Trinity  College. 
But  his  genius  was  too  decided — his  faculties,  in  general  by  far 
too  energetic  ;  to  be  led  into  just  such  a  .sphere  of  action,  as  an- 
other mind  might  select  for  him.  He  read  much  in  religious 
books,  practical  as  well  as  speculative ;  not  probably,  at  any  time, 
with  an  intention  of  eventually  pursuing  a  theological  course  of 
study:  but  to  satisfy  his  own  mind  on  important  points.    In  some, 


MEMOIR.  XIII 

at  least,  of  the  various  situations,  which  he  filled  with  perfect 
satisfaction  to  his  emi)loyerS;  ho  had  the  advantage  of  daily  con- 
versation with  people  of  deep  piety.  His  conscience  was  not  to  be 
satisfied  with  a  hasty  consideration  of  such  subjects.  He  read 
much,  and  thought  deeply. 

Too  much  reading,  and  study,  on  subjects  which  stimulated  his 
mind  to  intense  application,  with  the  sedentary  habits  thus  induc- 
ed, proved  injurious  to  his  health  and  comfort.  He  would  not,  or 
could  not,  in  general,  pass  by  vv'ith  a  mere  glance,  or  a  partial,  oc- 
casional attention,  any  thing  that  he  perceived  to  be  of  intrinsic, 
and  liigh  importance.  Much  less  could  he  thus  dismiss  the  sol- 
emn questions  whicli  concern  not  only  t'ae  present  interests,  but 
the  eternal  future  of  the  soul.  His  temperament  was  nervo-b!- 
lious.  His  energy,  in  the  exercise  of  every  faculty,  his  power  of 
intense  concentration  of  thought  on  any  subject  esteemed  worthy 
of  his  reflections,  his  ready  and  inexhaustible  endurance  of  bodily 
discomfort  in  the  prosecution  of  his  favourite  pursuits — though 
well  known,  as  matter  of  frequent  observation,  to  the  writer  of 
this  sketch,  and  appreciated  too  by  him,  as  worthy  of  admiration — 
would  require  for  adequate  description,  not  only  much  more  space 
and  leisure ;  but  probably  a  more  practised  and  an  abler  pen. 
Indeed,  had  it  not  been  the  obvious  leading  of  Providence;  and  the 
natural  result  of  the  closest  frie4idship,  and  tlic  deepest  interest  in 
his  works  ;  and  also  a  necessary  consequence  of  there  being  no 
other  person  intimately  acquainted  witli  liis  character,  his  mental 
exercises,  his  opinions  after  his  judgment  was  matured,  his  reli- 
gious faith  and  hope,  his  habits,  his  general  circumstances,  and 
the  incidents  of  his  life,  during  the  eleven  years  from  his  arrival  in 
Canada  to  the  time  of  his  decease ;  it  would  probably  not  have 
been  the  dntv  of  the  writer  to  have  undertaken  to  describe  one  so 


XIV  MEMOIR. 

superior  to  liim  in  scliolarsliip,  in  general  cultivation  of  mind,  ac- 
quaintance with  Poetry  in  particular,  and  probably  in  every  de- 
partment of  intellectual  capacity  and  encro-y,  as  was  Dr.Haskins. 

Our  Author  determined,  for  a  time,  to  lay  aside  berks.  He  saw 
no  earthly  prospect  of  comfort  before  him,  but  in  a  life  of  activity, 
and  exertion  :  regular  hours,  with  abundant  bodily  exercise  in  the 
free  air,  remote  from  cities.  All  considerations  favouring  such  a 
course,  he  made  choice  of  Canada,  as  his  country  ;  and  in  the 
year  1834,  bade  farewell  to  Dublin,  and  to  his  native  land.  Ac- 
companied by  his  sister,  since  deceased,(to  whom  he  has  inscribed 
his  Miscellaneous  Poems,)  and  their  Aunt — he  arrived  at  Belle- 
ville, on  the  Bay  of  Quinte,  Upper  Canada,  in  the  month  of  Julv, 
in  the  same  year. 

Very  shortly  after  his  arrival,  the  acquaintance  commenced  be- 
tween him  and  tlie  vrritcr  ;  which  led  the  way  to  a  friendsiiip  tjiat 
no  vicissitudes,  or  trials  of  life,  could  chanoe. 

Dr.  Ilaskins  practised  his  profession  awhile  in  Belleville.  He 
discontinued  it  for  a  short  time  ;  but  afterwards  adhered  to  it  while 
he  lived.     His  place  of  residence,  he  changed  three  timics. 

While  practising  in  Belleville,  he  became  acquainted  with  the 
lady  whom  he  shortly  afterwards  married.  She  was  the  dau"h- 
ter  of  Mr.  Daniel  Everitt  of  Kingston ;  and  was  in  Belleville,  on  a 
visit  to  her  relatives.  Not  long  after  their  marriage,  havins:  resi- 
ded awhile  at  tiic  River  Trent ;  that  is  to  say,  at  the  village  so 
called,  at  the  mouth  of  that  River  ; — they  removed  to  a  new  part 
of  the  country,  the  Townsliip  of  Loughborough  ;  north  of  Kings- 
ton. There  our  Author  enjoyed  a  season  of  domestic  felicity  : 
which  proved  as  transient,  as  it  was  bright.  There  the  sun  of  his 
life  attained  its  meridian  glory  :  there  he  buried  the  dearest  of  his 
earthly  hopes. 


MEJIOIK.  XV 

His  young  wife  was  as  amiable  as  beautiful.  Never  was  there 
a  man  who  more  highly  prized  such  a  treasure.  She  was  "  a 
crown  to  her  husbanJ."  But  she  proved  to  be  of  tlie  number  of 
thosa  whom  the  Lord  hastens  to  place  among  his  own  peculiar 
jewels. 

She  died  at  the  birth  of  her  child  ;  the  daughter  to  whom  oi  r 
Author  has  addressed  a  Poem,  which  we  have  arranged  among 
t!ie  Occasional  Pieces. 

Dr.  Haskins  being  so  nervous  a  man.  of  such  deep,  tender,  and 
intense  feelings,  as  are  most  vividly  cxhibi'icd  in  his  works  ;  there 
was  no  possibility  of  his  remaining  near  the  grave,  which  had 
swallowed  almost  his  earthly  all.  His  cliikl  was  spared  to  him  : 
but  his  feelings  were  those  of  one  bereft  of  every  joy,  and  com- 
fort of  life. 

From  Lojohborough,  he  removed  to  Frank  ford:  a  village  situ- 
aled  on  the  South  West  bank  of  the  River  Trent,  about  eight 
miles  from  its  month ;  and  on  both  sidos  of  Cole  Creek,  a  peren- 
nial stream  of  very  considerable  beauty,  which  there  mingles  its 
waters  with  the  sounding  rapids  of  the  Trent.  Here,  he  spent 
the  remainder  of  his  days.  Here,  in  the  abundant  leisure,  which 
remained  to  him,  from  the  duties  of  a  physician,  and  in  the  soli- 
tude, at  times,  but  too  irksome — which  he  liad,  however,  chosen  in 
preference  to  cities  and  crowds,  with  only  a  very  few  choice  books 
to  read  :  his  energetic,  and  ever  restless  mind,  found  worthy  ex- 
ercise, in  the  composition  of  the  greater  part  of  those  Poems. 
His  Hymns  were  written  while  his  wife  was  living.  As  they  sat 
side  by  side  on  leisure  evenings,  he  used  to  copy  neatly  in  the  ro- 
man  text,  such  as  he  had  finished.  These  and  others  they  used 
to  sing  together. 

At  Frankford  his  friend  used  to  visit  him  ;  and  stay  a  week  or 


XVt  MEMOIR. 

ten  days  at  a  time.  In  some  of  the  earlier  of  the  conversations, 
(long  to  be  remembered  by  the  survivor.)  v.'hich  they  there  enjoj'- 
ed  ;  it  was  suggested  to  our  Author,  to  employ  his  talents  in  wri- 
ting sacred  lyrics  to  certain  favourite  airs.  Hence  the  Songs  of 
Solitude.  In  singing  these,  the  Spanish  Guitar  was,  latterly,  an 
accompaniment. 

The  Cross  dates  next  after  the  Songs  of  Solitude.  Its  compo- 
sition occupied  most  of  his  leisure  hours  from  early  in  May  1841, 
until  the  commencement  of  October  in  the  same  )'ear.  It  occu- 
pied man}- a  solitary  hour ;  and  though  at  times,  not  unproduc- 
tive of  weariness  and  suffering — it  contributed  to  alleviate  a  sor- 
row, for  which  time  has,  in  general,  been  considered  the  only  cure. 

Our  space  is  almost  fully  occupied  ;  and  but  very  few  words 
can  be  added.  The  exposure  incident  to  the  practice  of  Medicine, 
and  the  intense  exercise  of  the  cerebral  functions  in  Poetic  com- 
position, are,  among  all  legitimate  accompaniments  of  certain  oc- 
cupations, the  two  that  have  been  found  to  operate  v.'ith  the  great- 
est effect,  against  longevity.  This  statement  is  made  on  the  au- 
tliority  of  tables,  carefully  constructed  by  men  of  science.  Dr. 
Ilaskins  was  not  exempt  from  the  influence  of  these  universal 
laws.  Though  he  was  the  most  strictly  muscular  man  the  wri- 
ter ever  saw — possessing  an  arm  whose  solid  knots,  when  in  full 
tension,  were  absolutely  beyond  a  comparison  with  the  best  rep- 
resentations of  pugilists  which  we  have  ever  happened  to  meet 
with— yet  his  constitution  was  not  proof  against  the  malaria  of 
vegetable  decomposition.  Though  the  valley  of  the  Trent  is  so 
very  rocky  :  yet  in  the  vicinity  of  Frankford  there  are  some  very 
extensive  swamps.  And  at  the  mouth  of  Cole  Creek,  a  mill-pond 
— while  it  affords  the  means  of  accommodating  the  population  of 
an  extensive  region  (in  occasional  seasons  of  drought,)    with 


MEMOIR.  XVII 

the  very  aliment  most  necessary  of  all — yet  exerts  a  prejudi- 
cial influence  on  the  constitutions  of  Lilioualy  disposed  inhabit- 
ants of  tlie  vi'ligf . 

Dr.  Haskins,  though  possessed  of  a  giant's  strength  in  his 
brawny  arm,  yet  had  by  no  means  a  broad  chest.  Here  was  a 
weakness.  His  liver  became  seriously  injured  by  repeated  at- 
tacks of  ague.  Under  the  combined  influence  of  accumulated 
causes,  his  constitution  sank.  He  complained  much  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1815  :  and  in  the  ensuing  autum.n  was  laid  on  the  bed  of 
death.  The  spirit  in  which  he  met  the  grim  enemy,  might  bo  im- 
agined from  the  tenor  of  many  passages  in  his  works.  Knov.- 
ing  his  own  heart,  ho  looked  for  salvation  only  in  the  atoning  sac- 
rifice of  Christ.  Deeply  contrite— humbled  before  the  Eternal 
Judge,  in  whose  presence  he  was  so  soon  to  appear — he  spent  his 
last  days  in  prayer.  His  little-  daughter  was  well  provided  for. 
She  inherits  properly  from  her  mother  :  and  has  kind  friends  in 
licr  maternal  relatives.  He  had  no  cause  for  anxicly  en  her  ac- 
count, lie  gave  a'l  Lis  thoughts  to  spiritual  things:  and  in  the 
Cdlm  hope  of  one  whose  strength  is  the  Eternal  Rock,  his  spirit 
dopart?d  from  this  world  of  suffering,  to  be  with  Go  J  andChr!s'. 


The  kindness  and  liberality  with  which  the  Editor  has  been 
supported  in  a  dilTici.lt  undertaking,  demand  his  warmest  thanks. 
The  uniform,  and  unsurpassed  poLtoness,  witli  which  his  so- 
licitations have  been  listened  to,  and  the  readiness  with  which  a 
large  subscription  list  was  afforded — have  forever  endeared  to 
his  remembrance  the  Colleges  and  cities  of  New  York  and  New 
England. 


0,* 


TO 

THE  MEMORY 

OF 

DR.  HASKINS. 


BY  MRS.  MOODIE. 


Neglected  son  of  Genius  !  thou  hast  passed — ^ 

In  broken-hearted  loneliness — away  : 
And  one  who  prized  thy  talents,  fain  would  cast 

The  cypress-wreath  above  thy  moiild'ring  clay. 

Ah  !  could  she  yet  thy  spirit's  flight  delay  ; 
Till  the  cold  world,  relenting  from  its  scorn, 

The  fadeless  laurel  round  thy  brows  should  bind  f 
Crowning  the  innate  majesty  of  mind, 
By  crushing  poverty  and  sorrow  torn. 
Peace  to  thy  nameless  ashes  !  till  revive 

Bright  memories  of  thee,  in  deathless  song. 
True  to  the  dead — Time  shall  relenting  give 

The  meed  of  praise  deserved',  delayed  too  long  ; 
And,  in  immortal  verse,  the  Bard  again  shall  live^ 


THI3 


■Joctical    lUorks 


OF 

JAMES  HABKINS,  A=  B.  M.  B- 

TRIN.    COLL.    DUBLIN. 


THE   CROSS  : 
3,    |3ocm, 

IIT  THRSS  BOOKS  : 

JAMES  HASKINS,  A.  B.  M.  B. 
TRiy.  Coi.L.  DiBLiu. 


On  perusal  of  /lie  folloicing  Address,  il  will  he  understood,  of 
eov.rsr.  tluU  (he  Author  naiurallij  hoped  to  he  ahle — at  some  period 
rifliiiUfi — lopffrcttlte  puhUcaiion  of  Jtis  Paeans.  It  is  distinct- 
ly shown,  moreover,  hy  his  own  tcords,  — {which,  hut  for  the  titter 
uaiU  of  space,  xcould  have  been  quoted  at  length,  in  the  course  if  the 
preceding  sketch  ;)  that  he  looked  forward  even  to  a  second  edition  : 
in  preparing  tchich,  {he  declares,)  he  would  gladly  avail  himself 
of  the  aid  of  candid  criticism. 

Hence  his  request  to  be  remembered  in  tlie  Reader's  orisons. 

Since  he  has,  in  tliis  Address,  thus  further  illustrated  Iris  oirn 
cliaracter  and  sentiments ;  the  presenting  it  in  its -proper  ■place — 
with  this  explanation — seems  essential  to  the  integrity  of  Ins  Works. 


TO  THE  READER. 


Reader  I  if  thoa  in  tliis  sliouklit  find 
Alight  to  profit,  please,  thy  mind — 
Alight  to  boguile  thy  lonely  lionr, 
Or  wake  within  devotion's  po\v"r — 
Alight  to  exalt  thy  soul  to  Him, 
Before  whose  eye,  stars — suns — are  dim  ; 
Good  wishes  let  the  poct  chiim, 
Wliose  guerdon  is  no  earthly  famo  : 
Still  let  a  pray'r  before  the  Throne, 
For  liim,  be  mingled  with  thine  own. 

When  winter,  with  his  piercing  wind, 
Ilai!,  snow,  and  tempest  all  combined. 
Reigns  o'or  the  world  in  solemn  state. 
And  chills  the  heart,  no  more  elate  ; 
In  summer's  bloom — in  autumn's  pride — 
When  smiles  the  spring  with  blushes  dyed  ; 
At  dawn  of  morn — at  golden  noon — 
At  eve — when  midnight  veils  the  moon ; 
When  happiness  thy  lot  hath  crowned. 
Or  sad  affliction  darkens  round  ; 
Siiil  lot  tiiy  soul  aloft  ascend. 
To  Him,  the  contrite  sinner's  friend  ; 
Still  be  thy  heart  to  .Tf.sus  giv'n  ; 
Who  died,  tliat  thou  mightst  live  in  heav'n. 


THE   CROSS 


BOOK  I. 


Analysis.— Stanzas  1—5,  The  Poet  invokes  the  true  source  of  Insiuraiion. 
H-is  subject,  the  plan  of  Redemption.  7—10,  Vastnessof  tlie  Subject.  Jlystcry 
of  Divine  Love.  11,  12,  The  Poetic  impulse  and  ardour  irrepressible  .  13,  The 
Author's  purpose.  14,  State  of  the  world  during  Satan's  reign  ;  or  previous  to 
the  Advent  of  the  Messiah.  19—21 ,  God  not  without  witness  during  that  period  : 
His  E.xistence,  Goodness,  and  Justice,  being  manifested  in  His  worlcs  of  Creatiou 
and  Providence.  24,  Traditional  knowledge  e,\istfid  in  all  nations.  26—30,  Rea- 
-son,  and  a  certain  innate  impression,  taught  mankind  the  E.xistence  of  a  supe 
rior  Power  ;  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul;  and  a  future  state  of  Retribution. 
31— 35,  Dreadful  nature  of  Sin.  36,  Universal  Tradition  of  Sacrificial  Atone- 
ment. 37,  Revelation  to  a  chosen  nation.  38 — 40,  Wonders  of  the  Law.  41, 
42,  Blessedness  of  Israel.  42—44,  Their  Rebellion  and  Ruin.  4.5,  God  foresee  ■ 
ing  the  fall  of  Man,  had  from  eternity  devised  the  plan  of  Redemption. 

46 — 50,  The  Messiah's  Kingdom  predicted  of  old.  54,  55,  Th  e  time  drawing 
near  ;  56—58,  Satan  summons  his  hosts  ;  and  in  an  address  (62)  in  which  lie 
shows  the  nature  of  the  approachingCrisis,  incites  them  to  a  final  struggle.  fiC. 
They  swear  to  war  with  Immanuel  forever. 

07—71,  A  Voice  is  heard  through  Hell  ;  showing  the  impotence  of  all  crea- 
itures  as  compared  with  God. 


I. 

<0  Thou  Eternal  One !  at  wliose  ccrnimand, 

From  chaos  rose  Creation — at  whose  will, 
Yonder  proud  dome,  magnificent,  o'erspanned 

Earth  newly  born,  where  darkness  lingered  still ; 

Whose  fullness,  then,  infinite  space  did  fill 
With  suns  and  spheres  of  glory — worlds  of  light. 

All  beautiful  and  blessed — where  nought  was  ill, 
To  cast  o'er  them  one  shade  of  transient  night ; 
But  all  was  like  Thyself,  glorious,  and  good,  and  bright 


26  THE   CROSS. 


II. 


Thou,  at  whose  word  the  firmament,  earth,  ocean, 

Took  their  appointed  place  by  firm  decree  ; 
When  from  th'  archangels  thrilled  supreme  devotion, 

And  all  the  host  of  heav'n  sang  praise  to  Thee  ! 

Creator,  Ruler,  of  all  worlds  that  be  ! 
Oh  !  bear  ray  spirit  high  o'er  mortal  things — 

E'en  to  that  realm,  where,  throned  in  majesty, 
Tiiy  greatness  dwells — aloft  on  seraph's  wings, 
U])liold  her  by  Thy  power  ;  while  she,  advent'rous,  sings. 

III. 

Oh  !  for  a  wing  above  the  condor's  flight, 

To  waft  my  soul  tow'rd  Heav'n  ;  e'en  where  the  strain 
Of  songs  angelic  echoes  from  the  height. 

And  hands  of  seraphim  their  harps  contain  : 

Then  would  I  sing.     Yet,  haply,  not  in  vain, 
,My  feeble  \'oice  with  them  Thy  praise  may  share. 

Oh  !  how  from  hymns  of  praise  can  man  refrain  ; 
When  lie  beholds  Thy  works,  supremely  fair : 
But  chief,  Tlie  Cf.oss — Thy  Son  beloved  expiring  there  .' 

IV. 

Source  of  all  spirit !     Maker  of  all  mind  ! 

Omnipotence  !  be  Thou  my  strength  and  stay  : 
Far  from  the  wild'ring  world,  in  clouds  enshrined, 

Oh  !  point  me  out  the  sure,  unerring  way  ; 

That  leads  to  lands  where  smiles  immortal  day. 
Sole  Good  !  Sole  Great !  Oh  !  teach  me  to  behold 

The  sun  of  Truth,  unblindedby  his  ray  : 
Nor  let  Thy  love  within  this  heart  wax  cold ; 
While  I,  in  vent'rous  verse.  Redemption's  plan  unfold. 


IMVOCATION.  27 

V. 

No  fabled  muse — no  fond  Parnassian  dream — 

Invoke  I  now,  a  lofty  strain  t'  inspire. 
Thou  anly,  as  befits  my  sacred  theme, 

Can'st  kindle  in  this  soul  unearthly  fire ; 

And  wake  to  harmony  my  untuned  lyre. 
Thee  I  invoke.     My  strength  were  vainly  spent, 

Without  Thine  aid.     Shall  man,  unhelped,  aspire 
To  sing  Redemption  ?    If  that  aid  be  lent — 
Weak  of  myself,  and  frail,  I  shun  not  this  high  argument. 

VI. 

Saints  of  the  earth  !  in  ardent,  humble  pray'r, 

Lift  your  united  voice  to  Him  above ; 
And  supplicate  that  I  His  grace  may  share, 

To  make  my  darkness  light.     Mysterious  Dove  ! 

Thy  blest  illumination  let  me  prove. 
Spirit  of  truth  and  holiness  !  'tis  Thine, 

To  vivify,  t'  enlighten,  to  remove 
All  earthly  dross.     Oh !  make  my  soul  Thy  shrine. 
Kindle,  and  hallow  all  within,  with  love  divine. 

VII. 

Wonder  of  wonders  !     God,  who  reigns  on  high, 

Lord  of  the  Universe — Th'  Almighty  One — 
Essential  Life — Soul  of  Eternity — 

f 'ame  down  to  dwell  on  eartli.     The  peerless  Sun — 

Around,  in  whom,  stars,  worlds,  their  courses  run — 
Shrouded  His  glory  in  a  form  of  clay  ; 

Declined  in  death,  for  man  by  guilt  undone. 
Hence  !  thoughts  profane.     Ideal  dreams,  away  \ 
Be  i/iis-r-be  this  alone  my  thought — by  night,  by  day. 


•28  THE   CKOSSv 


VIII. 


Immortal  I\Ian  !  how  fearful  was  the  debt, 

Which  a  Redeemer's  blood  alone  could  pay  'v. 
This  mystery  of  marvels  angels  yet, 

Awe-struck,  behold,  and  tremblingly  survey  : 

How  vast,  no  finite  mind  imagine  may. 
Higher  than  highest  heav'n— what  canst  thou  do  > 

Deeper  than  earth's  foundations— firm  for  aye — 
Wider  than  endless  space :  could'st  thou  pursue, 
E'en  in  eternal  thought,  the  theme,  'twere  ever  new. 

IX. 

It,  as  the  thunder  on  its  fi'ry  wing, 

My  voice  to  distant  lands  could  speak  afar  ; 

If  solemn  tone,  vibrating  from  the  string 
Of  my  rude  harp— beyond  the  flight  of  star, 
Could  reach  the  realms  where  the  unfallen  are  ; 

INIyriads  of  worlds  of  beauty— where  the  blight 
Of  sin  ne'er  came,  their  loveliness  to  mar ; 

I  would  address  their  countless  legions  bright- 

•Behold— behold  the  Cros'^j  I  that  all  transcending  sight '/ 

X. 

If,  as  a  river  rushing  to  the  shore 

Of  the  unbounded  Ocean— soon  to  lose, 
In  that  dread  deep,  its  waters,  heard  no  more— 

E'en  to  remotest  time  I  could  diffuse 

My  soul,  in  heralding  the  sacred  news 
Of  a  Redeemer's  blood,  shed  to  retrieve 

IVIan  from  eternal  death ;  unworthy  muse  .' 
Tlien  might'st  thou  sing.     But  ?iou;— canst  thou  not  weave 
One  warning  strain,  and  cry— 'O  :\lau  !  repent— believe  V 


THE   author's   purpose.  29 

XI. 

Comes  there  upon  the  calmness  of  my  soul 

A  nameless  pow'r  — as  'neath  the  moonbeams  bright, 
The  torrent  from  the  mountain ;  when  the  roll 

Of  its  dark  waters,  dashing  from  the  height, 

Reverberates  in  echoes  thro'  the  night" — 
And  thoughts  are  rushing  by  me  :  and  the  moon — 

All  gentle  in  hersilv'ry  tissue  dight — 
Can  lull  the  rolling  torrent's  wave  as  soon, 
As  I  can  stem  those  thoughts,  not  now  mere  fancy's  boon. 

XII. 

And,  were  I  silent,  it  might  be  required. 

At  the  great  day,  when  all  their  doom  shall  know — 
When  souls  that  high  to  heav'nly  things  aspired, 

Aloft  shall  wend  ;  and  those  that  grovelled  low, 

In  base  pursuit,  plunge  in  th'  abyss  of  woe: — 
When  talents  profitless  must  be  restored  ; 

And  all  shall  reap  as  they  on  earth  did  sow. 
Oh !  let  me  not  presume — yet,  righteous  Lord  ! 
My  portion  due  of  toil,  let  me,  tho'  weak,  afford. 

XIII. 

Humbly,  my  God,  to  Thee  I  lift  my  heart, 

Seeking  Thy  succour ;  that  no  evil  thought, 
In  this  my  hallowed  purpose,  may  have  part — 

Or  vanity  steal  in,  and  make  all  naught. 

If  that  my  spirit  hath  a  portion  caught 
Of  heav'nly  ardour — be  that  ardour  spent 

In  heralding  the  great  redemption,  bought 
By  Jesu's  blood  : — be  this  my  sole  intent. 
To  keep  all  pure  within,  oh  !  be  Thy  influence  lent. 

3* 


30  THE    CROSS. 

XIV. 

Two  thousand  year*  twice  told,  this  earth  had  lair. 

To  sorrow,  sin,  and  misery  a  prey  ; 
x\nd  ruined  Man,  the  heir  of  toil  and  pain, 

Wore  out  in  wretchedness  his  little  day  : 

Nor  hope  diffused  upon  his  lot  one  ray. 
And  when  he  died — the  darkness  and  the  gloom. 

And  heaviness  upon  his  soul  that  lay, 
Were  but  the  heralds  of  an  awful  doom. 
In  the  far  land  that  lies  beyond  the  shad'wy  tomb. 

XV. 

Born  as  for  woe — he  vainly  lived  and  died  : 
Fearful,  unknowing  of  his  future  fate  : 

Reason,  by  sin  obscured,  his  feeble  guide — 
His  life  was  djrear.    Death  thro'  his  gloomy  gate 
Grinned  ghastly,  at  his  near  approach  elate  ; 

And  pois'd  his  jav'lin,  tipped  with  flames  of  hell  - 
And,  at  his  furious  frown  of  vengeful  hate, 

Blackness  of  darkness  on  the  spirit  fell ; 

A\iguish  and  mighty  woe,  and  fears  uniittVable. 

XVI. 

Earth  was  no.paradise,  as  once  of  old. 

When  from  her  Maker's  hand  her  beauty  rose  : 
Brief  was  the  bloom  her  morning  did  unfold  , 

And  transient  did  her  cheek  its  blush  disclose. 

In  youth,  her  brow  became  all  stern  with  woes. 
Yet  oft  did  she  look  glad  :  but  never  smiled. 

As  she  was  wont  ere  sorrow  shed  its  snows. 
When  guilty  Man  from  Eden  wasexiled ; 
Nature  and  she,  erst  lovely,  grew  all  dark  and  wikj.. 


Satan's  REIGN.  31 

XVII. 

War,  bloodshed,  rapine — an  unnumbered  host 

Of  deadly  plagues — her  early  annals  stained ; 
And  Lucifer,  (dread  lord  !)  could  proudly  boast, 

Not  in  but  lurid  hell  he  sov'reign  reigned  : 

Dominion  over  Earth  he  not  disdained. 
Wide  o'er  the  world,  his  sable  banner  waving, 

Its  mighty  shadow  cast  :  till  nought  remained 
Uncoloured  by  its  hues.     Th'  Eternal  braving, 
Victoriously  he  sped,  all  human  hearts  enslaving. 

XVIIL 

Prince  of  th'  aerial  powers !  I  backward  trace 

The  tide  of  evil  ;  that  tremendous  sea, 
Whose  overwhelming  waves  would  fain  efface 

(iood  from  our  world.     Satan  !  alone  from  thee — 

As  Egypt's  flood,  when,  like  eternity, 
Its  stream  rolls  on — those  billows  bursting  sweep. 

Fountain  of  ill !  thy  springs  perennial  be. 
Nought  can  control  their  spreading  waters  deep  : 
Save  He,  whose  pow'r  alone,  can  souls  in  safety  keep. 

XIX. 

And  yet — tlio'  evil,  from  those  venorned  springs, 

Swept  as  a  moral  pestilence  the  vi^orld  ; 
Tho'  each  departing  virtue  spread  its  wings, 

And  Satan  waved  his  banner-cloud  unfurled, 

And  Sin  its  myriads  to  perdition  hurled  : 
Jeliovah  !  Lord  of  lords,  and  King  of  kings  ! 

While  mutability  its  circle  whirled. 
Till  earth,  and  man,  seemed  moved  by  chance's  strings  ; 
TJiy  hand,  above,  ruled  all,  and  governed  mortal  things. 


32  THE  CROSS; 

XX. 

The  blight  of  sin — the  dismal,  barren  earth  ; 

The  double  curse  on  Man — death,  toilful  pain ; 
Woman,  condemned  to  anguish,  in  the  birth 

Of  beings  doomed  to  woe ;  the  first  born  Cain, 

Smirched  with  his  brother's  blood  by  muider  slain; 
The  agony,  the  torture,  and  the  woe, 

Superlative  of  horrors  shed  like  rain 
On  guilty  man — hell's  black  abyss  below — 
Thy  hohness,  and  pow'r,  justice,  and  truth,  did  show. 

XXI. 

Not  without  witness  was  Thy  mercy  too, 

Tho'  Earth  a  dreary  wilderness  became. 
Thou  water'dst  her,  each  night  and  morn,  with  dew ; 

And  warm'dst  with  genial  glow  her  inward  frame. 

Thy  gen'ral  care  did  all  Thy  creatures  claim. 
Filling  their  hearts  with  food.     And  oft — tho'  joy 

Was  not  a  flow'r  of  mortal  growth,  (its  name' 
Still  misapplied) — did  sunny  gladness  buoy 
Many  a  human  heart,  above  life's  sad  annoy. 

XXII. 

Tho'  all  were  evil ;  from  th'  infected  mass 
Of  vileness  unredeemed,  stood  forth  a  few 

Of  high  and  elevated  soul.     Alas ! 

Tho' — eminent  above  the  common  crew — 
Superior,  they  did  nobler  things  pursue, 

Not  grovelling  in  sense,  in  vice  debased  ; 

Seekers  of  wisdom — they  their  God  ne'er  knew  ! 

Knew  not  the  God,  whose  glorious  image  traced 

Upon  the  soul,  from  thence  not  wholly  was  effaced. 


LIGHT  OF  TRADITION.  33 

XXIIT, 

Wisdom  !  it  was  a  glorious  guest,  much  sought. 

Those  noble  few  oft  deemed  her  form  their  prize  ; 
And  many  grasped  a  cloud,  and  found  it  nought 

But  empty  vapour  :  as  the  sleeper  tries — 

When,  in  the  beauty  of  a  dream,  arise 
Charms  of  a  form,  than  mortal  one  more  fair — 

T'  embrace  its  loveliness,  (with  wishful  eyes. 
And  a  deep-heaving  heart,)  and  finds  but  air : 
Tiius  Wisdom  lured  along;  and  few  her  smiles  did  share. 

XXIV. 

Some  feeble  rays  of  ancient  lore,  from  heav'n, 

Shed,  in  each  nation,  more  or  less  of  light : 
And  to  each  son  of  man,  some  grace  was  giv'n ; 

Which,  well  improved,  had  made  his  darkness  bright. 

And  manifest — amid  that  inward  night — 
(iod's  spirit  still  diffused  a  living  ray  : 

And  hence  were  human  hearts  not  evil  quite . 
Some  good,  some  worth,  men's  actions  did  display-^- 
Kind  deeds  were  done  ;  and  oft  did  gen'rous  feelings  sway. 

XXV. 

In  sooth,  Man  was  a  strange  and  motley  thing  ; 

All  impotent,  yet  with  vast  pow'rs  endued. 
With  spirit  strong  to  soar  on  lofty  wing. 

Erect — sublime  of  brow — the  heavens  he  viewed  ; 

And  mid  the  stars  his  soul  its  path  pursued  : 
Then — wallowed  in  the  mire  !,  and  grov'lling  base — 

E'en  in  the  dust,  beneath  his  footsteps  strewed — 
He  seemed  a  being  of  a  dift"'rent  race 
From  him,  whose  mind  grasped  suns,  and  worlds  in  its  embrace. 


34  THE  CROSS. 

XXVI. 

Tho'  "desperately  wicked,"  Scripture  says, 

The  heart,  and  its  imaginations  ill; 
Tho'  to  depraved  inventions,  man  his  ways 

Perverted  ;  curved,  and  warped  to  wrong  his  will : 

A  monitor  within  was  warning  still, 
Waked  by  the  Spirit  of  God.     Its  accents  spake 

Around — with  deep,  reverberating  thrill — 
Like  echoes  of  the  thunder ;  when  awake 
Its  loud-toned  peals,  that  bid  the  rocks  and  mountains  quake. 

XXVII. 

There  was  an  innate  stamp  on  ev'ry  mind — 

A  strong,  instinctive,  energy  of  sense  : 
That  still,  with  reason's  arguings  combined. 

Spake  of  a  God.     Despite  the  impotence, 

Wrought  in  the  soul,  by  man's  so  dire  offence  ; 
Convinced  of  God — One  mighty  Being,  vast. 

Supreme  o'er  all— Original ,  from  whence 
Creation  rose  -,  Man  stood  and  quaked  aghast : 
For  Conscience  spake  of  crimes,  loud  as  the  lightning  blast. 

XXVIII. 

In  his  calm  hours,  he  could  not  but  believe 

This  truth — incontrovertible  by  all 
The  sophistries  which  Passion's  pow'r  doth  weave. 

Aloud,  within,  that  voice  to  him  did  call. 

To  stay  his  steps — nor  tempt  a  farther  fall ; 
And  still,  of  former  crimes,  the  bitter  pang 

His  spirit  stung ;  and  terror  did  appal. 
And  of  his  earthly  joys  the  requiem  rang : 
Despairingly  he  drooped  ;  tho'  flow'rs  around  him  sprang. 


THE   STING  OF   CONSCIENCE.  36 

XXIX. 

For  flow'rs  of  earthly  joy  no  pleasure  bring, 

When  the  sad  heart  is  deep  remorse's  prey. 
When  Conscience  plies  its  scourge,  and  inward  sting, 

The  skies  look  black  at  noon  of  cheerful  day  ; 

And  nature's  realms  a  fun'ral  frown  display. 
Where'er  we  turn — the  pit,  where  serpents  hiss. 

Profoundly  yawns,  and  threatens  black  dismay : 
Clouds  darken  all  the  heav'n  of  transient  bliss — 
Death  with  white,  fleshless  finger,  points  to  the  abyss. 

XXX. 

Tho'  nature's  eye  be  glad,  and  wild  birds  sing 

Amid  the  pleasant  groves ;  whose  early  leaves. 
Luxuriant,  fold  the  budsthat,  blossoming. 

Breathe  odours  on  the  air — tho'  summer  weaves 

Its  flow'ry  chaplet ;  yet  the  heart  that  grieves. 
With  the  dark  woe  by  sin  and  passion  wrought, 

No  pleasure  from  her  varied  scenes  receives  : 
But,  from  the  sullen  cave  of  fearful  thought. 
Despairing,  looks  around,  and  deems  that  all  is  naught. 

XXXI. 

O  Sin  !  thou  deadly  source  of  all  our  woe  ! 

Thou  traitress,  still  with  blood  of  souls  besprent '. 
Destroyer  of  all  life  !  determined  foe 

Of  happiness — of  love — each  feeling  sent 

From  heav'n,  t'  enkindle  earth's  gross  element 
With  joy  celestial !  wherefore  did'st  thou  haste, 

On  thy  black  wing  of  ominous  portent — 
Like  vulture  to  the  carnage — to  lay  waste 
The  loveliness  that,  once,  man's  guileless  spirit  graced  ? 


3G  THE   CROSS. 

xxxu. 

How  deep,  how  dire,  the  desolation  wrought 

Around — within — by  that  unsparing  hand  ! 
How  did  the  heav'ns  grow  dim ;  and  come  to  nought, 

The  bounteous  scheme,  that  Love  Divine  had  planned  ! 

And  universal  guilt,  at  thy  command, 
Burst  as  a  deluge  round,  with  billows  high  : 

Till  Peace  and  Virtue  found  not  where  to  stand — 
But  waved  their  wings ;  and  sought,  beyond  the  sky, 
A  calmer  world :  where  Love's  elysian  flow'rs  ne'er  die. 

xxxra. 

What  lure  did'st  bring — what  splendid  recompense — 
What  treasures  infinite,  the  soul  to  gain  ? 

What  golden  wonders — what  rich  stores  immense— 
WJiat  spell  of  matchless  pow'r,  t'  illude  the  brain  ^ 
What  forms  of  paradise — a  peerless  train  ? 

Mere  emptiness  !  the  shadow  of  a  dream, 
That  mocks  the  sleeper  in  his  visions  vain. 

Away!  thine  eyes  deceitful  lustre  beam; 

Hence !  painted  skeleton,  whose  smiles  with  horror  teem. 

XXXIV. 

What  was  the  witchery,  that  thus  could  steal 

To  thy  embrace,  the  soul,  all  heav'nly  pure  ; 
That,  blind  to  sense  of  its  eternal  weal. 

It  rushed  Almighty  vengeance  to  endure  ? 

What  was  the  recompense,  the  wondrous  hire  ? 
No  answer  yet !  I  turn  me  to  the  grave — 

Dark  home  !  man's  dreary  destination  sure. 
Let  me  consult  yon  gloomy  charnel-cave ; 
Dread  pit..    Of  thee — yon  scull — do  I  an  answer  crave. 


ATONEMENT.   REVELATION.  37 

XXXV. 

Thou  speakest  well,  O  grave  !  unburied  scull, 

Sternly  thy  features  on  the  living  lour  ! 
Yet  do  those  eyes,  of  mystic  meaning  full, 

Speak  to  the  startled  soul — beyond  the  pow'r 

Of  eloquence,  in  its  impassioned  hour, 
Hurling  its  thunders.     Thy  mute  mouth  doth  tell, 

How  small  of  folly's  treasures  is  the  dow'r : 
Around  its  accents  echo  like  a  knell, 
Tolling  its  dreary  dirge  o'er  all  that  earth  loved  well. 

XXXVI. 

Some  sacrificial  oft"ring,  to  atone 

For  sinful  deed — some  thing  of  worth  resigned ; 
Blood  spilt — flesh  burned — upon  the  altar-stone  : 

'Twas  not  in  these  to  renovate  the  mind ; 

The  balm  of  peace  not  thus  could  spirits  find. 
Tho'  lore  traditional  all  nations  taught. 

Alone  could  blood  the  shackled  soul  unbind  ; 
With  errors  wild  their  creeds  were  overfraught : 
Alas  !  they  knew  not  Him,  whose  blood  Redemption  boughr, 

XXXVII. 

One  chosen  nation,  God's  especial  love 

Blessed  with  a  revelation  of  His  will ; 
By  precepts  pure  of  wisdom  from  above, 

Taught  to  adopt  the  good,  reject  the  ill : 

Just,  holy,  wise — beneficently  still 
Pointing  their  path — He  gave  His  sacred  Law, 

Framed  by  Omnipotence  with  perfect  skill. 

Not  angel's  eye  could  there  discern  a  flaw  : 

The  seraphim  its  code,  with  speechless  wonder,  saw, 

4 


38  THE   CROSS, 

XXXVIII. 

Blessings,  and  curses,  did  that  law  ordain  : 

To  the  obedient  an  assured  reward  ; 
Deep  woe  denounced,  the  wicked  to  restrain 

From  guilty  ways,  that  make  the  heart  most  hard. 

By  its  restriction,  was  no  joy  debarred 
From  man  ^  save  those  that  left  a  sting  behind — 

False  joys,  that  solid  happiness  still  marred 
With  mildew  blight :  e'en  as  the  Samiel  wind  ; 
Which  passed,  the  traveller  can  nought  of  verdure  find. 

XXXIX. 

Just,  holy,  good,  the  precepts  of  His  Word 
Made  wise  the  simple  ;  light  unto  the  feet, 

That  stumbled  in  the  darkness,  did  afford. 
To  heav'n-aspiring  souls,  its  taste,  more  sweet 
Than  honey  comb,  with  pleasure  was  replete  : 

Sweeter  than  golden  honey  from  the  hive  : 
To  the  despairing  soul  a  cordial  meet — 

A  rich  repast,  the  spirit  to  revive — 

A  balm  of  sov'reign  pow'r  to  make  the  dead  alive. 

XL. 

Prefigured  in  its  rites,  th'  adorer  viewed 

The  mystery  of  all-redeeming  pow'r. 
As  on  the  altar-stone,  each  day  imbued 

With  blood  of  lambs,  was  shed  the  crimson  sliow'r 

From  victims  innocent ;  th'  approaching  hour 
Of  earth's  deliv'rance  on  their  vision  rose — 

The  Sun  of  Righteousness,  (tho'  clouds  did  lour 
Around  Him,)  seemed  His  dawning  to  disclose  : 
The  Lamb  of  God  was  slain,  triumphant  then  o'er  foes. 


ISRAEL,  god's  vineyard.  39 

XLI. 

Jehovah,  still,  this  people  of  his  choice, 

In  all  their  wand'rings,  did  sustain  and  guide  ; 
And,  (as  the  Shepherd  calls  his  sheep  by  voice, 

And  they  obey  him,)  by  the  gentle  tide 

Of  waters,  that  without  a  murmur  glide — 
Thro'  meadows  green.  He  led  them  day  by  day  : 

With  gladness,  and  with  food,  their  hearts  supplied. 
Oh !  blessed  beyond  all  earthly  creatures  they  ! 
Yet  widely  did  this  flock  from  the  Good  Shepherd  stray. 

XLII. 

A  vineyard,  planted  on  a  fruitful  hill, 

Was  Israel.     His  boughs  extended  wide, 
In  summer's  golden  gleam  exulting  still : 

His  branches  bent,  beneath  the  purple  pride 

Of  grapes,  that  seemed  with  morning's  blushes  dyed. 
The  stranger  o'er  the  land,  delighted,  sent 

His  ling'ring  gaze ;  and  long  the  prospect  eyed. 
Again  he  passed : — a  storm  its  bloom  had  rent ; 
Blossoms,  and  fiuit,  and  leaves,  in  dust  were  mould'ring  blent. 

XLIII. 

Vineyard  of  God !  how  did  thy  grapes  become 

As  barren  clusters  of  th'  uncultured  vine  ! 
Ere  winter's  icy  horrors  did  benumb 

The  sap  ascending,  and  their  tendrils  fine ; 

How  lovely  was  each  tree,  each  branch  of  thine, 
In  nature's  early  freshness  !  Heav'n  on  high, 

Show'r'd  o'er  thy  genial  bosom  dews  divine. 
Yet,  transiently  as  dreams,  that  hour  went  by : 
How  did  the  gold  grow  dim — mere  dross  its  place  supply  ! 


id  THE  CROSS. 

XLIV. 

Jesliurun's  God !  depictured  here  we  see 
A  likeness  of  ourselves — the  human  heart '. 

Our  souls  how  base,  how  impotent  they  be ; 
Still  prone  from  Thee;  and  goodness,  to  depart  : 
How  kind,  how  true,  how  merciful  Thou  art, 

To  wretches  wand'ring  from  the  blissful  way — 
Like  broken  bow,  still  wont  aside  to  start. 

Oh  !  guide  my  footsteps,  lest  I  farther  stray  ; 

And  shed  upon  my  soul  one  beam  of  heav'nly  day. 

XLV. 

Known  unto  God  are  all  things  :  present,  past, 

And  future.  His  all  comprehending  eye 
V^iews  at  a  glance.     Time's  moments  flee  full  fast. 

From  all  created  things.     For  Him  on  high — 

Tliere  is  no  time ;  all  is  Eternity  : 
No  past,  no  future.     He  devised  the  plan 

Of  earth's  Redemption  :  long  before  the  Tree 
Of  Knowledge  gave  its  fruit  to  guilty  man  ; 
Boforo  His  Seven  days'  work  of  wonder  He  began. 

XLVI. 

Ciuaftuig  the  stream  of  inspiration  deep. 
Prophets  foretold  of  far,  yet  hasting,  hours  ; 

When  Earth,  with  bosom  torn,  should  cease  to  weep — 
Her  brow  again  be  decked  with  blooming  flow'rs — 
The  wilderness  rejoice  with  heav'nly  show'rs, 

And  blossom  like  the  rose  :  a  distant  time. 
When  victory  should  smile  on  Salem's  tow'rs  ; 

And  Glory's  King  arrive,  in  pomp  sublime  ; 

And  Jewry's  land  become  as  Heav'n's  ethereal  clime : 


PROPHECIES. 

XLVII. 

When  Ziou's  daughter,  prostrate  in  her  grief, 

Mourning  amid  the  tombs  in  sable  woe, 
(Disconsolate  like  Rachel,  while  relief 

Seemed  far  away,)  a  happy  change  should  know, 

And  in  one  moment  all  her  grief  forego : 
Music,  for  mourning,  her  sad  spirit  steep — 

Beauty,  for  ashes,  on  her  cheek  should  glow — 
For  heaviness,  the  heart's  exulting  leap, 
Where  gladness  and  delight  their  joyous  concert  keep  : 

XLVIII. 

Joy,  as  a  precious  balm,  should  widely  pour 
Its  streams  o'er  all  the  land  ;  and  hearts  be  healed, 

Whose  wounds  were  deemed  incurable  r  no  more 
The  trumpet  summon  to  the  battle-field — 
War's  thunder-blast  no  more  its  echoes  yield  ; 

Nor  howling  of  the  tempest  shake  the  shore, 

Wliere  all  should  find  a  port.     Thus  Heav'n  revealed 

Health  for  the  heart,  a  salve  for  ev'ry  sore ; 

Of  blessings  from  above,  a  rich,  a  boundless  store. 

XLIX. 

The  lion  and  the  lamb,  in  flow'ry  mead, 

Should  play  together  ;  the  wolf,  gentle-eyed, 

Fondle  the  kid  ;  the  flock  securely  feed. 
Amid  the  forest-herd,  nor  ill  betide : 
The  serpent — in  his  scaly,  speckled  pride, 

Twining  voluminous  his  spiry  fold — 

Sportive,  and  harmless,  by  the  infant  glide. 

Thus,  in  prophetic  strain,  the  seers  of  old 

Messiah's  welcome  reign,  as  Prince  of  Peace,  foretold. 

4* 


41 


i'2  THE   CROSS. 

L. 

O  blissful  siglit !  the  vulture  and  the  dove 

In  kindly  union  meeting — sweet  release 
From  scenes  ungentle  !  happiness  and  love 

Gliding  around,  in  silv'ry  waves  of  peace. 

With  whisper  soft  bidding  vexation  cease  ; 
Earth,  as  a  paradise  in  vernal  bloom, 

Bedecked  with  beauty's  smile  the  heart  to  please  ? 
All  nature  rising  from  ungenial  gloom, 
And  bursting  into  life,  new  charms  each  hour  t'  assume. 

LI. 

Yet — Judah  I     lie,  thy  princely  Lord  and  Lion, 
Had  warfare  to  accomplish.     Sin  and  Hell, 

(Stern  foes  !)  still  fixed  their  foreheads  against  Zion, 
And  this,  her  weal.     Not  tongue  of  man  can  tell 
How  they  conspired,  with  machinations  fell, 

'Gainst  God  and  His  Anointed.     (In  the  page 
Of  Revelation,  'tis  recorded  well.) 

All  madly,  too,  the  heathen  did  engage 

To  mock  Jehovah's  pow'r,  with  wild,  with  senseless  rage. 

LII. 

O  man  most  blind  !  What  darkness  had  disgraced 

Thy  reason's  ray,  (obscured,  alas !  and  dim  ; 
Yet  still  the  beacon  true,  within  thee  placed. 

To  warn  and  guide,)  that  thou  didst  war  with  Him, 

Who  left,  for  thee,  the  realm  where  seraphim 
Circle  His  throne  :  where  the  archangels  high — 

Whose  cup  with  glory  sparkles  to  the  brim — 
Humbly  adoring,  stand  submissive  by  ; 
Shadowing  with  silv'ry  wings,  each  starlike,  radiant  eye. 


THE  FULLNESS  OF  TIME.  43 

LIII. 

O  madness  of  the  heart !  the  phrensied  brain 

Ne'er  equalled  this,  in  its  delusions  wild  ; 
Delirium,  in  its  dark,  infuriate  reign, 

Had  no  such  thoughts.     This  madness  was  llic  child 

Of  impious  Pride,  from  Wisdom  far  exiled. 
To  war  with  the  Redeemer  !  to  despise 

Mercy  and  Vengeance — Love  that  gracious  smiled. 
Bidding  the  sinner  come  and  share  the  skies  ! 
Satan !  this  stood  supreme  o'er  all  thy  victories. 

LIV. 

Diew  on  the  time  which  prophets,  heav'n-inspired, 

Declared  should  come — the  all-auspicious  day. 
Judea's  sons  glad  expectation  fired, 

Of  a  blest  coming  change  :  nor  only  they 

Looked  for  a  morning  of  a  brighter  ray, 
Than  e'er  had  dawned  on  earth.     Sages  averred 

A  mighty  conqueror  was  on  his  way, 
To  ransom — to  redeem.     Hell's  groan  was  heard  ; 
And  Tophet  all  its  waves  e'en  from  the  bottom  stirred . 

LV. 

Unearthly  sounds  were  heard  upon  the  steep 

Of  Jordan's  mountains — wailings  of  despair ; 
Dread  mourning — as  when  baffled  demons  weep. 

In  impotence  of  fury — filled  the  air. 

Unwonted  horrors  did  the  sinner  share ; 
And  dark  forebodings  of  Immanuel's  reign 

And  victory,  the  hosts  of  hell  did  scare : 
Nor  rested  they  from  opposition  vain. 
Harp!  let  thy  strings  vibrate  a  louder,  sterner  strain. 


44  THE  CROSS. 

LVI. 

Emerged  th*e  lost  from  the  deep  waves  of  hell ; 

From  the  dread  gulf  of  the  abyss  of  flame  : 
Where,  mountainous,  the  fi'ry  surges  swell 

With  everlasting  roar.     Fiercely  they  came 

On,  where  the  portals,  of  stupendous  frame, 
O'erarch  with  horrors  black  the  gloomy  gates — 

Whose  mysteries  of  terror  have  no  name — 
Where  Death,  with  massive  keys,  (grim  porter !)  waits ; 
And,  sternly  scowling,  glares  thro'  the  red,  glowing  grates. 

LVII. 

Glared  fiendish  eyes,  from  the  unholy  dead, 
As,  like  a  flood,  along,  fierce  swept  the  crowd  ; 

As  wave  on  wave,  rank  upon  rank  they  sped. 
With  voices  like  the  blast  of  thunder  loud — 
Their  fi'ry  breath  streamed  upward,  as  the  cloud 

That  bears  the  lightning.     With  terrific  swing 
Those  gates  burst  widely — his  demeanor  proud, 

Fierce-eyed,  within  strode  the  tremendous  king  : 

Hell's  caverned  echoes  woke,  its  monarch  welcoming. 

Lvni. 

Stem  gazing,  for  a  while,  he  silent  took 

His  brazen  trump;  and  blew  a  warlike  blast: 
Hell's  adamantine  arches,  starting,  shook  ; 

And  its  black  portals  bowed  their  columns  vast. 

Onward,  as  speeds  the  storm,  the  summons  passed 
To  the  remotest  bounds  where  demons  dwell : 

A  ruddier  gleam  the  swelt'ring  billows  cast — 
Intenser  burned  the  fires,  whose  blazes  fell 
Enwrap  the  tortured — at  that  warning  known  full  well. 


THE  SUMMONS. 


45 


LIX. 

As  pour  the  stars  from  the  bright,  glitt'ring  east,         * 

Streaming,  all  numberless,  along  the  sky — 
When,  from  his  golden  chariot,  hath  released 

The  Sun  his  coursers — from  their  fountains  high, 

Magnificent,  outspreading  on  the  eye  ; 
Where  deserts  wide  unfold  their  arid  world — 

As  sandy  clouds  sweep  on  the  tempest  by  ; 
As  leaves  autumnal,  by  the  north  wind  hurled : 
Thus  Tophet's  armies  rushed,  with  sable  flag  unfurled. 

LX. 

As  round  him  in  array  their  legions  sweep, 
Stands  Satan,  as  a  rock ;  that  o'er  the  waves 

Uplifted — when  the  spirit  of  the  deep, 

Roused  by  the  war  of  winds,  in  fury  raves — 
Rears  high  its  brow,  and  all  the  billows  braves. 

Awful  he  stands,  in  majesty  ;  replete 

With  innate  pow'r,  and  energy  that  craves 

From  none  or  help,  or  counsel.     At  his  feet, 

in  haughty,  swelling  floods,  th'  unnumbered  faithless  meet. 

LXI. 

'King  of  the  proud !  whose  sovereign  commands 
None  question  here — whose  undisputed  sway 

Governs  all  hearts ;  behold  !  submissive  bands, 

Spread  limitless  around  in  wide  array, 
Await  thy  will.    To  hear,  and  to  obey. 

Is  ours  :  expectantly  we  wait  thy  word. 
Wherefore  thus  summoned,  mighty  monarcli !  say.' 

Outspake  then,  sternly,  sin's  terrific  lord, 

Beloved  of  hearts  below, by  rigliteous  Heav"u  abhorred. 


46  THE  CROSS. 

Lxn. 

•Souls  of  tfte  free,  the  fearless  !  dauntless  ones — 

Spirits  of  finer  frame,  who  nobly  own 
No  monarch's  pow'r,  save  mine ;  freedom's  true  sons, 

Valiant  as  wise — who  bow  not  at  the  throne, 

Where  sits  the  King  who  rules  in  heav'n  alone  ; 
Earth,  hell,  are  oiirs — so  let  them  still  remain  ! 

Our  vast  dominion  ne'er  be  overthrown  : 
Man  be  our  willing  slave ;  to  wear  the  chain, 
Which  thousand  worlds  to  rend  may  seek ;  but  seek  in  vain. 

LXIU. 

'Comes  on  the  day,  prophets  declared  of  old, 

Should  see  God's  son  victoriously  arrive 
'Mong  fallen  men ;  and  conquering  unfold 

His  banner  in  the  fight :  empow'r'd  to  give 

Exemption  from  our  bonds  to  all  that  live. 
Commissioned  thus — descends  He  from  on  high, 

From  sin,  and  guilt,  and  woe,  their  souls  to  shrive. 
Draws  on  the  day — the  hour,  the  moment,  nigh  : 
Let's  greatly  strive,  and  prove  the  prophets  spake  a  lie. 

LXIV 

Firm,  bold,  and  brave — to  war  with  Him  in  heav'n 
Be  ours  :  nor  let  us  tame  our  rights  forego. 

Let  lightnings  blast — the  firmament  be  riv'n, 
With  all  His  thunder — the  abyss  below 
With  tenfold  horror  rage.     Let  the  storm  blow, 

Of  his  concentrate  wrath,  upon  each  head  ; 
The  furnace  of  His  fury  fiercely  glow  ; 

And  earth  and  hell  be  mingled  in  the  dread 

Chaos,  which  on.ce  they  were  :  till  all  of  life  be  dead, 


SATAN  S  ADDRESS. 

LXV. 

'Save  that  which  cannot  die.     Tho'  at  His  side, 
Myriads  of  strong  archangels  draw  the  sword ; 

Proud  let  us  stand,  and  the  event  abide. 

Have  not  the  phials  of  His  wrath  been  poured 
Upon  our  heads  ere  now  ?  thfe  lightnings  stored 

In  treasury  of  tortures,  fiercely  burst 

Around ;  nor  left  one  thunder  of  that  hoard  ? 

Burns  not  His  hatred  with  immortal  thirst  ? 

Arm—arm  !  arrive  what  will— we  feel,  we  know  the  worst. 

LXVI. 

•What  worse  than  he.U  ?  Is  farther  woe  reserved 
For  those  who  dwell  inTophet's  gulf  profound, 

Amid  avenging  fire  ?  hath  he  not  nerved 

His  red  right-hand,  to  deal  destruction  round 
Our  faithful  bands  tormented  beyond  bound  ? 

War  be  our  cry  !' Swept  onward  as  a  river. 

His  words.     Exultingly  that  host  around, 

With  curses  deep,  that  made  e'en  stern  hell  shiver, 

Swore  to  contend  with  Him — Iramanuel — for  ever. 

LXVII 

A  voice  then  echoed  thro'  th'  expanse  of  hell : 

Like  wind,  at  even,  on  tiie  silent  shore 
Of  ocean.  As  around  its  accents  swell, 
Tho' still  and  small — hushed  is  the  fiendisii  roar 

Of  execration  :  from  that  host  no  more, 
Tumultuous,  rose  th'  exulting  shout  of  war. 

A  breathless  trance,  like  that  of  death,  came  o'er 
The  boastful  bands :  as  spake  that  voice  afar — 
Around  were  silent  all,  as  death's  still  sleepers  are. 


47 


48  THE  CROSS. 

Lxvni. 

'Woe  to  rebellious  worms !  that  madly  strive 

With  their  Creator;  dare  dispute  His  will, 
Whose  frown  is  death,  whose  word  makes  all  alive — 

Th'  Omnipotent :  whose  works  of  glory  fill 

All  space  ;  who  bids  the  stars  cf  heav'n  stand  still. 
And  they  obey  ;  who  but  withdraws  His  breath — 

The  universe  sinks  down  in  cureless  ill, 
All  creatures  totter  o'er  the  brink  of  death. 
None  can  withstand  His  pow'r :  'tis  done,  whate'er  He  saith. 

LXIX. 
Woe  to  the  wicked,  who  presumptuous  strive 

With  the  Triune,  Lord  of  eternity  ! 
Whose  bolts  the  everlasting  mountains  rive  ; 

Who  fetters  with  strong  chain  the  raging  sea, 

And  bounds  it  by  perpetual  decree. 
Satan,  beware  !  not  all  His  shafts  are  spent. 

Still  are  there  thunders  in  His  treasury — 
The  sevenfold  thunders  of  Th'  Omnipotent — 
To  baffle  thine  array,  in  wide  destruction  blent. 

LXX. 

'Shall  the  dry  grass  its  feeble  stem  uprear, 
In  lightning's  flashes,  and  their  fury  brave  ? 

Shall  stubble,  chaff,  and  thorns,  the  trial  dare, 
When  torrent  floods  of  fire  roll  on  their  wave  .' 
When  loud,  o'er  land  and  sea,  tornadoes  rave, 

Shall  the  light  thistle-down  withstand  their  pow'r  I 
When  giant  gusts  rush  from  the  mountain-cave, 

Shall  silv'ry,  sailing  clouds  loiter  that  hour  ; 

Nor  ieel  the  mighty  blast,  o'ertuming  tree  and  tow'r  ? 


SATAN  REBUKED,  49 

LXXI. 

'Satan  1  howe'er  thy  haughty  heart  may  swell — 

Archangels  wonder — demons,  men,  deride  ; 
Unmoved  alike  by  earth,  or  heav'n,  or  hell, 

That  by  my  prophets  spoken,  shall  betide  : 

Immutable  my  promises  abide. 
Triumphant  over  thee,  and  death — My  Son, 

Shall  rule,  with  royal  sway,  creation  wide : 
Jlankind  adore,  from  dark  perdition  won. 
My  changeless  word  is  passed  :  it  shall — it  shall  be  done  !' 


THE  CROSS. 


BOOK  II. 

Analysis. — Stanzas  1—3,  The  Majesty  of  God,  tho  Centre  of  all  Being.  4 — 
7,  Poetic  aspirations,  and  Priyer.  8,  Sophists,  9,  Thomas  Paine.  11,  New- 
ton. 14—29,  Visions,  showing  the  horrors  entailed  by  Sin.  32,  Zion  watch- 
ing for  the  Desire  of  all  Nations.  33,  Pride  of  the  Pharisees;  Scepticism  of 
the  Sadducees  ;  False  notions  of  the  Jews,  respecting  the  character  of  the  Mes- 
siah. 

34,  Address  to  Jerusalem,  on  His  Advent.  37 — 39,  His  appearance  in  the 
Temple.  His  mnjesty,  meekness,  wisdom,  love.  Divinity.  40 — 42,  Satan  baf- 
fled, plots  anew.  45 — 48,  The  Saviour's  Miracles.  49,  His  preaching  :  suoh 
words  as  never  man  spake.    50,  The  Pliarisee,  and  the  Publican. 

51,  The  Poet  pauses,  to  contemplate  Nature.  52 — 58,  Description  of  Morn- 
ing. 

I. 

Sun  of  the  Universe  !  whose  sleepless  eye 

Doth,  at  a  glance,  Tinnumbered  worlds  behold  ; 
Sweeps  the  broad  fields  of  ether,  spread  on  high 

Around  yon  orbs — that  clustering  unfold 

Their  paradise  of  beauty,  gems,  and  gold  ; 
Where'er  arrive  the  sacred  beams  of  light, 

There  is  Thy  presence  :  where  extension,  rolled 
As  ocean,  sweeps  above  th'  empyreal  height ; 
There  are  Thy  works.     Yon  dome  magnificent,  of  night, 

II. 

Bespeaks  Thy  pow'r.     Bright  as  a  wondrons  dream, 

EfFulge  the  starry  hosts  in  proud  array: 
Witli  eyes  of  glory  that  immortal  seem, 

And  brows  of  calmer  smile  than  men  display — 

Serene  they  walk  along  the  heav'niy  way. 
In  silent  majesty  and  order  deep. 

How  holy,  and  how  beautiful  are  they  ! 
Like  bands  angelic  :  as,  in  love,  they  keep 
Watch  o'er  the  world  ;  while  toil-o'crwearied  mortals  sleep. 


POETIC  ASPIRATIONS.  5l 

ni. 

Centre  of  being  !  prime  Original 

Of  that  which  rvas  and  shall  be  ;  whence  derive 
Their  essence  and  existence,  each  and  all 

Thy  creatures  manifold,  that  move  and  live: 

Soul  of  the  universe  !  Thy  guidance  give. 
Illume  my  darkness,  O  Thou  peerless  Sun 

Of  light  ineffable !  as  on  I  strive. 
Point  me  the  path  ;  that  I  false  ways  may  shun : 
Then  gild  with  glory ;  when  my  toil,  my  travel's  done. 

IV. 

Ye  stars  of  heav'n  !  on  your  ethereal  path 

Ye  have  no  resting-place.     Along  the  steep 
Of  yon  unbounded  blue ;  whose  azure  hath 

No  likeness  upon  earth — so  calm,  so  deep, 

So  shadowless  its  purple  billows  sleep, 
As  lulled  eternally  in  peace  profound — 

Onward,  still  on,  your  shining  course  ye  keep  : 
Each  like  a  king  with  gems  and  glory  crowned, 
Dispensing  beauty,  light,  on  all  above,  aroundL 

V. 

If  that  my  soul,  unhindered  in  its  course, 

flight  speed  lOce  ye  along  the  heav'nly  way  -, 
Tlio'  small  its  lustre,  impotent  its  force — 

Upheld  by  Him,  whose  hand  by  night,  by  day, 

Can  guide  my  falt'ring  footsteps  lest  I  stray  ; 
How  blessed  my  lot !  Tho'  ne'er  on  earth  to  shine, 

(Save  when  my  glow  worm-lamp,  with  feeble  ray, 
Brightens  the  gloom,)  what  blissful  life  were  mine  ! 
But  now — toil,  weakness,  woe,  to  check  my  course  combine. 


5i2  THE   CROSS. 

VI. 

Vet  let  me  trust  in  Ilim,  who  ne'er  forsook 

His  feeblest  foll'wer,  wandering  below  ! 
Who,  from  the  womb,  this  fragile  structure  took, 

And  bade  a  mother's  breast  with  balm  o'erflow. 

Let  me  upon  His  pow'r,  His  mercy,  throw 
J\Iy  weary  burden — all  my  grief  and  pain, 

I\ly  anguish,  and  my  weakness,  and  my  woe. 
i'riend  of  the  fatherless !  do  Thou  sustain  ; 
And  bear,  forme,  the  links  of  life's  encumb'ring  chain. 

VII. 

i5ind  up  my  bleeding  wounds,  Thou  gentle  Lamb  I 
Who  love  compassionate  for  me  did'st  feel. 

Thou,  and  Thou  only,  seest  what  I  am  : 
Thy  love  alone  my  stricken  heart  can  heal, 
And  chase  the  grief  my  bosom-shades  conceal. 

Conie — for  Thou  know'st  what  pains  tliis  heart  oppress- 
Saviour  Omnipotent !  Thy  help  reveal : 

Come — for  Thou  knowest  all  my  deep  distress — 

Revive  my  fainting  soul ;  strengthen,  uphold,  and  bless. 

VIII. 

Hence,  ye  vain  sophists  !  "aZZ  tilings  as  they  were 
From  the  beginning^'' — say  !  is  this  your  creed  ? 

Behold  yon  heav'ns  !  the  stars  that  glitter  there— 
Had  they  no  IMaker  ?  did  destruction  breed 
Their  shining  forms,  (where  man,  not  blind,  may  read 

The  wonders  of  Omnipotence  ;  and  improve 
Night's  darkling  hours :)  that  eloquently  plead 

His  cause ;  who  bade  them  not  unbeauteous  rove 

O'er  earth,  beneath  the  smile  of  thousand  eyes  of  love  ? 


THE   STARRY   HEAVENS.  63 

IX. 

And  thou — whose  tongue  long  since  is  dumb  in  death  ! 

The  worshipper  of  Reason,  phrensy-driven : 
Who  railed  at  Revelation  with  rank  breath ; 

Asking — "if  such  had  been  to  mortals  given, 

Why  was  't  not  written  with  the  stars  of  Heaven  ?" 
Deluded  man  !  hadst  thou  upturned  thine  eye, 

With  a  pure  heart,  at  hallowed  hour  of  even  ; 
Thou  might'st  have  read,  in  scriptures  of  the  sky, 
Tomes  of  eternal  truth,  and  pow'r,  revealed  on  higli. 

X. 

Beams  there  not  there  a  revelation,  bright 

Beyond  th'  imaginings  of  mortal  mind — 
Of  pow'r,  of  glory,  excellence  and  might, 

Wisdom,  and  majesty,  and  skill  combined  ; 

Splendour  supreme,  that  can  no  equal  find — 
To  tell  of  the  Eternal :  to  allure 

The  heart  to  holiness  and  heav'n  ?    Oh  !  blind 
Is  he  who  cannot  read  those  pages  pure  ; 
Than  which  the  sacred  Word  ne'er  spake  a  language  truer. 

XI. 

IIow  bright,  in  contrast  with  a  heart  like  thine, 

Slione  the  seraphic  spirit  of  the  man — 
The  starry  seer — whose  soul  was  all  divine  ; 

Whose  mental  grasp  did  nature's  wonders  span  ; 

Who,  skilled  in  her  deep  mysteries,  outran 
Wisdom  of  ages  ;  and  in  early  youth, 

Pliilosopher  profound,  did  science  scan  ; 
And  saw  a  God  in  all,  and  Heav'nly  Truth, 
And  Wisdom  infinite !  This  man  was  great,  ic  sooth. 

5* 


54 


THE    CROSS, 


XII. 

O  Calv'ry !  how  a  thought  on  thee  annuls 
All  other  thought !  be  thou  my  only  theme, 

Ee  Golgotha,  the  ghastly  place  of  skulls, 

My  Pindus — my  Parnassus  ;  Kedron's  stream, 
lily  Helicon  :  where  I  would  nightly  dream ; 

And  all  day  in  entranced  vision  view, 

High  on  the  cross — Almighty  to  redeem — 

My  dying  Lord.     O  Holy  One  and  True  1 

Give  me  a  heart  all  pure  ;  my  spirit  quite  renew. 

XIII. 

Creation  ne'er  beheld  such  awful  sight, 

Such  mystery  of  wonders  ;  as  that  day 
Unfolded  to  the  view,  on  Calvry's  height : 

When  on  the  cross,  the  Saviour  did  display 

His  bleeding  wounds  ;  and  to  His  Father  pray — 
That  those.  His  murderers,  who  nailed  Him  there, 

Might  have  forgiveness.     Guilty  too  as  they, 
Oh !  let  me — let  me  too,  Thy  mercy  share  ! 
Jesus  !  my  sins  the  nails,  the  spear,  the  wormwood  were. 

XIV. 

A  vision  came  before  me  in  the  night, 

Scaring  my  soul — a  city  of  the  dead : 
Where  the  few  living  stalked  in  pale  affright. 

Like  spectres  in  a  charnel-house.     Like  lead, 

Their  hollow,  sunken  eyes  no  lustre  shed  ; 
And  on  their  cheeks  the  smile  of  madness  played. 

Blue  livid  spots  their  ghastly  skin  o'erspread  : 
Convulsively,  with  famine's  lust  decayed. 
Shivered  their  forms ;  and  each  a  harr'wing  sight  displayed. 


VISIONS.  55 

XV. 

Famine  upon  their  souls  its  change  had  brought. 

The  husband  with  fell  looks  pursued  the  wife ; 
By  rav'ning  fury  to  delirium  wrought, 

The  father  on  his  daughter  drew  the  knife — 

The  mother  from  her  suckling  drained  the  life, 
And  hewed  its  tender  limbs  with  horrid  rage — 

Brother  with  brother  fought  in  deadly  strife  : 
Where,  o'er  the  corse,  with  wolves  did  dogs  engage. 
On  rottenness  did  some  their  hunger's  pangs  assuage. 

XVI. 

It  vanished.     On  my  view  arose  a  scene. 

Of  difF'rent  aspect.     Swept  by  ocean's  wave, 
Circling  its  em'rald  shore  with  blue. serene, 

A  lovely  isle  a  pleasant  prospect  gave. 

Gently  as  did  the  tide  its  borders  lave, 
Breathed  balm  the  wind.     Like  gardens,  in  their  pride, 

Its  fields  appeared  ;  and  towns  and  cities  brave 
Were  scattered  o'er  its  plains  on  ev'ry  side  : 
And  on  its  swelling  seas  did  potent  navies  ride. 

XVII. 

'Twas  changed.     The  wind  spake  thunder  as  it  passed  ; 

The  fields  were  black  with  blood — the  towns  o'erthrown  : 
The  sea  rose,  mountainous,  before  the  blast ; 

And  of  unnumbered  wretches  drowned  the  groan, 

That  in  the  mighty  deeps  sank  down  like  stone. 
War  blew  his  trumpet.     Mustering  full  fast, 

(As  when  the  fabled  serpent's  teeth  were  sown.) 
Armies  around  unfolded  legions  vast ; 
And  swept,  with  storm  of  death,  that  prostrate  land  aghast. 


66  :  THE  CROSS. 

XVIII. 

It  vanished.     Stood  I  on  a  mountain's  heiglit. 

Beneath  me  lay  a  smiling  continent, 
A  universe  of  joy — arrayed  in  light 

And  loveline.ss  :  where  pleasure  thoughtless  spent 

Enraptured  hours.     Far  as  mine  eye  was  sent, 
Glitt'ring  with  gold,  proud  cities  with  their  tow'rs 

Sparkled  beneath  the  sun  :  while  nature  lent 
Harmeed  of  joy — rich  fields  and  blooming  flow'rs. 
And  paradisal  plains,  bedecked  with  beauty's  bow'rs. 

XIX. 

Music  was  on  the  air,  and  songs  were  heard 

Around.     Came  suddenly  an  awful  tone — 
It  was  not  voice  of  man,  or  beast,  or  bird  ; 

But  a  deep,  fearful  sound,  like  nature's  groan  : 

And,  as  it  came — roof  and  foundation-stone, 
Those  cities,  with  their  tow'rs,  did  shake  and  quiver  ; 

Man's  princely  works  of  pride  were  overthrown. 
Crumbling  to  dust.     Destruction,  like  a  river. 
Swept  on  :  and  from  its  rage  none  could  that  land  deliver. 

XX. 
Next  did  I  see  an  aged' sinner  weep. 

No  tear  of  penitence  bedewed  his  eye — 
His  was  the  agony  of  terror  deep  : 
.    For  close  arrived  the  hour  when  he  must  die. 

And,  as  his  glance  ranged  upward  to  the  skv, 
Methought  I  viewed  the  stare  of  horror  wild  : 

That  shall  be  seen  at  left  of  Him  on  hitrh. 
At  the  great  day :  when  mountain  vengeance  piled 
Shall  crush  to  veriest  hell,  myriads  from  heav"n  exiled. 


VISIONS.  57 

XXI. 

Tlieii,brouo-lit  before  my  view,  a  radiant  form 

In  loveliness  of  youth,  mine  eye  beheld  : 
Like  a  gay  pleasure-bark,  that  never  storm 

Breathed  on ;  with  gentle  gales  its  canvas  swelled. 

Again  I  gazed — The  sight  my  spirit  quelled. 
It  wore  the  garb,  and  ghastliness  of  Sin  :  I 

lis  furrowed  face  the  smile  of  hope  repelled  : 
On  its  corrupted  cheek  did  white  worms  win 
Their  way  ;  till  nought  was  left  but  bones  yclad  in  skin. 

XXII. 

I  saw  a  den  beneath  a  burning  sky — 

Iron,  and  stone,  a  narrow  dungeon  made  ; 
From  men  within,  close  crowded,  came  a  cry 

That  heart  of  adamant  might  have  affrayed  ; 

Piercing  into  the  soul.     For  mercy  prayed 
A  hundred  wretches,  swelt'ring  in  a  sea 

Of  horrors  that,  before,  but  hell  displayed : 
And  bitterly  besought  their  guards  to  free, 
By  death,  their  souls  from  worse  than  mortal  agony. 

xxin. 

Theirs  was  the  fever's  rage,  whose  fi'ry  glow 
Bums  the  heart  black  ;  and  thro'  the  scorching  veins, 

Like  molten  brass  bids  the  hot  current  flow. 
On  to  the  bars — where,  from  the  arid  plains, 
Breathes  the  light  wind — that  band  a  strife  maintains, 

Deadly  as  that  raging  in  hell  beneath  ; 

Where  everlastinj;  hate  with  tumult  reigns. 

Hangs  o'er  them  high,  with  pestilential  breath, 

A  grey,  mephitic  cloud  ;  whose  drops  are  dews  of  death. 


58  THE  CROSS. 

XXIV. 

Theirs  was  th'  infuriate  plirensy  of  the  brain, 

That  follows  at  the  heels  of  grim  despair  ; 
When  souls,  insensible  to  all  but  pain, 

The  degradation  of  the  flesh  must  share — 

And  reasonless  the  body's  curse  must  bear — 
Annihilate,  'twould  seem,  to  all  but  woe  : 

Thus  miserably  did  those  victims  fare. 
Mornino-  beheld  the  dead.     Few  thence  did  go 
Alive  ;— and  changed  !  a  mother's  eye  not  one  covild  know. 

XXV. 

Next  did  I  see  a  heart ;  that  with  keen  steel 

Severed,  its  bloody  fibres  did  disclose. 
Its  dark  recesses  did  a  sight  reveal, 

IMore  fearful  than  those  many  ghastly  woes, 

Beholding  which,  horror  my  spirit  froze. 
I  looked — foul  snaky  worms  entwining  there, 

Each  on  a  sep'rate  fibre,  did  expose 
Their  venomed  fangs  ;  the  gazer's  soul  to  scare. 
Those  worms— hate,  envy,  pride,  all  evil  passions,  were. 

XXVI. 

Then,  in  my  dream,  a  voice  its  accents  shed — 
•Shi's  slio-htest  work,  mortal !  thou  hast  beheld ; 

Now  see  a  stranger  sight— the  tortured  dead.' 
J  saw  a  gulf,  whose  glowing  surges  swelled 
On  high  ;  and  'gainst  a  fi'ry  roof  rebelled, 

(That  overspanned  that  fathomless  profound. 
On  pillars  propped,)  with  wrinkled  features  eld 

Of  sin  engraved,  and  eyes  that  all  around 

Shot  terror ;  from  whoso  rays  the  lost  no  refuge  found  : 


AISIONS.  59 

XXVII. 

The  mystery  of  licll.     The  tide  of  flame 

Rolled  onward,  on.     Within  its  iron  caves — 
As  the  unstable  billow  went  and  came — 

I  saw  the  souls  of  men  long  in  their  graves ; 

Whose  shriek  of  horror  drowned  the  roaring  waves. 
Then  spake  that  voice  from  gloom  of  outer  night — 

Olortal !  this  scene  thy  deep  reflection  craves. 
Thou  seestthe  work  of  sin,  with  pale  affright : 
Yet  viewest  but  a  part.     Behold  a  stranger  sight.' 

XXVIII. 

Borne  on  the  winged  wind,  I  soared  afar  ; 

Till  Salem's  tow'rs  appeared  beneath  my  feet. 
The  heav'ns  were  black,  without  or  sun  or  star  : 

But,  by  the  rapid  lightning's  flashes  fleet, 

While  thrilled  mine  Inmost  soul  with  awe  replete  ; 
I  saw  a  sight — Earth  !  Hell  !  and  holy  Heav'n ! 

Never  but  once  such  sight  did  mortal  meet — 
Hung  on  the  cross,  with  wounds  unseemly  riv'n, 
Creation's  bleeding  Lord — that  man  might  be  forgiv'n. 

XXIX. 

'O  thou  false  tongue !'  (then  said  I  in  my  dream,) 

'This  is  the  work  of  love,  the  masterpiece 
Of  unimaginable  love  supreme  ; 

Beholding  which,  wonder  and  sorrow  seize 

My  saddened  heart,  and  all  its  fibres  freeze  : 
Tilll  deep  contrition  makes  that  clime  serene.' 

Then  spake  that  voice — 'Mortal !  thy  censure  cease. 
This  is  love's  noblest  work.     Yet  well  I  ween. 
Had  sin  ne'er  wrought,  on  Earth  thStt  sight  had  ne'er  been  seen.' 


60  THE    CROSS. 

XXX. 

Gone  is  my  vision.     Yet  before  me  now 
I  view  that  strange,  that  all-transcending  sight. 

High  on  the  cross,  with  pallid  bleeding  brow — 
And  eyes  suffused  in  death's  unlovely  night, 
That  dimly  glazes  o'er  each  orb  of  light-^ 

The  Lord  of  Glory  bows  His  breathless  form. 
Methinks  life's  ray  is  not  extinguished  quite — 

Heaves  not  the  heart  beneath  that  bosom  warm  ? 

Away  !  'tis  cold  and  still,  and  food  but  for  the  worm. 

XXXI. 

The  Cross — the  crowd— centurion  with  his  band 

Of  iron-visaged  veterans — the  dense, 
Thronged  myriads  around,  on  either  hand — 

The  Pharisee,  high  priest  of  proud  pretence — . 

Are  strongly  pictured  to  my  eye,  and  sense. 
See  I  not  these  ?  is  not  this  Calvary  ? 

Burns  not  my  spirit  with  the  view  intense  ? 
It  is  no  dream  :  but  forms  which  graven  be 
On  each  believing  heart,  v/hlch  still  that  sight  dotii  see, 

XXXII. 

Turn  we  to  tell  of  times,  when  Zion  kept 

Watch  from  her  walls.     The  warders,  day  and  nigjit, 
With  eye  of  watchfulness  that  never  slept. 

Looked  for  the  long  Desired  ;  whose  coming  brigjit 

Should  gild  her  gloom  with  more  than  morning's  hglit — 
Whose  reign  should  be  eternal,  on  the  throne 

Of  David  ruling  with  resistless  might, 
Conq'ror  and  King :  when,  all  her  foes  o'erthrown, 
The  world  should  own  Hiss*tvay,  and  bend  to  Him  alone. 


ADDRESS  TO  JERUSALEM.  61 

xxxm. 

The  Pharisee,  vain-glorious  in  his  pride, 

In  saintly  garb  with  broad  phylactery ; 
The  Sadducee,  who  spirit,  soul  denied. 

Deeming  that  after  death  no  life  shall  be  ; 

Chief  captains,  high  estates  of  Galilee, 
Levite  and  priest,  Samaritan  and  Jew — 

Expected  each,  a  conqueror  to  see  : 
Beneath  whose  sceptre,  all  their  land  anew 
Should  wake  to  glory,  thai  the  former  times  ne'er  knew. 

XXXIV. 

Jerusalem  !  thou  city  of  the  Great 

Eternal  King  !  upon  tliy  holy  hill 
Of  Zion,  lo  !  with  triumph's  songs  elate, 

Descends  the  heav'nly  host ;  whose  harpings  fill 

The  skies  around  with  their  harmonious  thrill. 
Echo  responds— "Hosannah  to  the  Son  !" 

Widely  the  waves  of  sound  are  spreading  still : 
And  yet  more  fleet  the  courier  angels  run. 
Proclaiming  all  around — "good  will  to  man  undone."  ' 

XXXV. 

Behold,  upon  the  hills,  their  beauteous  feet, 

Who  bring  the  tidings  of  great  joy.     Behold 
His  heralds — while  the  blissful  moments  fleet — 

Their  message  of  good  will  and  peace  unfold ; 

And  while,  from  man  toman,  the  tidings  told, 
Sweep  o'er  the  land — awaking  at  the  sound, 

Emotions  thrill  in  hearts  that  long  lay  cold  : 
And  hallowed  fire  dispels  the  gloom  around. 
That  long  o'er  Zion's  sons  had  shed  its  night  profound. 


62  THE  CROSS. 

XXXVI. 

"Lift  up  your  lieails,  ye  everlasting  doors ! 

Be  ye  uplifted,  everlasting  gates  !" 
The  King  of  Glory  comes  with  all  His  pow"r.s  ; 

Zion's  Deliverer  no  longer  waits 

A  future  hour  :  the  God  who  peace  creates, 
Comes  to  enfranchise  Zipn.     Prince  of  Peace, 

How  long  desired  Thy  coming ;  hell  abates 
No  jot  of  enmity.     Oh  !  now  release 
From  sin's  dominion  earth,  and  bid  her  sorrows  cease. 

XXXVIJ. 

Lo  !  in  the  temple,  with  a  faithful  train, 

He  stands  sublime,  in  robes  of  whitest  sheen  ; 

Superior,  as  o'er  angels  born  to  reign, 

That  eye — how  calm  !  that  aspect — how  serene  I 
What  majesty,  on  mortal  face  ne'er  seen, 

Beams  from  His  brow  !  the  crowd,  in  speechless  trance.' 
Is  fain  to  interpose  the  hand  between 

Its  earthly  eye,  and  that  immortal  glance. 

Too  much  of  Heav'n  is  there — it  turns  its  lopks  askance. 

XXXVIII. 

Hov/  holy  and  how  mild  !  all  there  may  see 

The  excellence  of  Deity  displayed  ; 
Conscious  perfection — sov'reign  dignityr-? 

Humility  in  placid  smiles  arrayed, 

Too  great  to  stoop  to  ill ;  with  aspect  staid. 
Meekness  ineffable — heart  of  the  dove, 

Where  th'  eagle's  royalty  its  home  hath  made  ; 
Wisdom,  and  pow'r,  and  gentleness,  and  love. 
Combined  in  one  blessed  form  of  beauty  from  above, 


CHRIST  IN  THE  TEMPLE.  6S 

XXXIX. 

The  Son  of  God— of  Man ;  two  natures  blent 

In  unity  of  person,  where  combine 
True  God  and  perfect  Man ;  Messiah  sent 

Earth  to  redeem — half  human,  half  divine 

In  essence  :  I/ord  !  all  praise  and  thanks  be  Thine. 
We  creatures  of  an  hour,  before  Thy  throne, 

Deep  in  the  dust  our  sinful  heads  decline. 
In  Thee  our  trust  is  placed,  in  Thee  alone : 
No  other  lielp  have  we — to  us  Thy  grace  be  shown ! 

XL. 

Now  Satan,  from  his  journey  of  deep  guile 

Daring  to  tempt  The  Hdy  Oae— shot  down 
To  lowest  pit  of  hell.     His  ev'ry  wife 

Baffled — he  tore  his  locks  with  furious  frown, 

And  trampled  'neath  his  feet  his  iron  crown, 
Gnashing  his  teeth  in  pride  and  passion  sore  ; 

Extinct  his  glory,  faded  his  renown — 
He  shrank  into  himself :  and  at  his  roar. 
Swelled  mountainous  the  waves,  on  Hell's  terrific  shore. 

XLI. 

Stern,  savage,  subtle,  yet  inteat  on  ill. 

He  calms  his  fury.     With  a  hrow  malign, 
Dark  furrowed  by  its  frown — obdurate  stili, 

Hatred  and  envy  in  his  breast  combine ; 

Pond'ring  new  plans  to  thwart  the  work  divine 
Of  man's  redemption  :  grievously  he  wrought 

A  labyrinth  of  wiles,  with  deep  design. 
The  work  of  the  Most  High  to  bring  to  nouglit; 
And  spells  of  wondrous  pow'r,  with  ^uile  infernal  fraught. 


64  THE   CROSS. 

XLII, 

Then  calls  his  council,  and  enthroned  uplifteth 

His  giant  form — as  Himalah's  bleak  brow 
Frowns  at  the  thunder  blast,  its  crag  that  rifteth — 

While  the  red  bolts  hell's  murky  billows  plough  ; 

Again  he  binds  his  subjects,  by  a  vow 
Of  direst  import,  endless  war  to  wage 

With  Glory's  King : — his  chiefest  purpose,  now, 
Man's  aid  against  Messiah  to  engage  ; 
And  stimulate  his  soul  to  deeds  of  hellish  rage. 

XLIII. 

And  well  did  he  succeed  :  but  doing  so — 

E'en  as  the  man  who  undermines  a  tow'r — 
Pulled  down  upon  his  head  intenser  woe  ; 

Felt  in  its  fullness  the  Almighty's  pow'r, 

And  cursed  the  folly  of  that  fatal  hour. 
Yet  was  he  wise ; — but  partial  was  his  view 

Of  the  Eternal's  plan.     Thus  wrath  did  show'r 
Its  heaviest  flood,  where  he  did  most  pursue 
His  wiles  with  subtlest  skill,  and  malice  staunch  and  true. 

XLIV. 

Behold  the  Saviour  by  yon  city's  wall. 

Laid  on  the  bier,  a  mother's  only  son, 
(And  she  a  widow,)  borne  beneath  the  pall, 
Goes  to  his  grave.     Riv'lets  of  sorrow  run 
Adown  the  faded  cheek  of  that  sad  one, 
Left  in  her  widowhood  a  thing  forlorn  ; 

Seeming  to  all  by  this  last  blow  undone. 
How  sinks  her  heart  by  speechless  anguish  torn  ! 
But  lo  !  Jesus  draws  nigh,  and  bids  her  cease  to  mourn. 


THE  saviour's  MIRACLES,  &3 

XLV. 

That  hand  of  clay  He  holds  ;  and  bids  arise 

The  dead  man  from  his  bier.     Scarce  sped  the  word— 
The  pallid  corse  unlocks  its  heavy  eyes, 

And  stares  upon  the  crowd ',  the  heart  hath  stirred 

Beneath  that  icy  breast :  the  voice  is  beard, 
Whose  tones  were  wont  a  mother's  heart  to  cheer. 

Death's  debt  was  truly  paid — by  all  incurred  : 
Yet  now  that  young  man  lives ;  and  from  the  bier 
Descending,  fills  each  mind  with  wonder,  joy,  and  fear. 

XLVI. 

Beneath  you  clilTwith  palmy  shade  o'ergrown. 

Behold  that  cave — the  grotto  of  the  dead — 
Hewn  from  the  rock,  and  closed  with  massive  stone. 

There  Lazarus  has  made  his  earthy  bed ', 

His  sorr'wing  sisters  floods  of  anguish  shed  ; 
Around  the  mourners  stand.     Lo  1  Jesus  weeps, 

As  mourns  a  brother  for  a  brother  fled 
To  death's  dark  realm  ;  sad  woe  his  spirit  steeps : 
Not  unbedewed  the  spot,  where  the  departed  sleeps. 

XLVII. 

That  stone  removed — in  calm  and  heav'nly  pray'r, 

He  thanks  the  Father ;  then,  with  summons  loud, 
Cries — "Lazarus,  come  forth  !"  What  feelings  share 

Those  sisters,  and  that  mute,  expectant  crowd  ! 

Lo  !  Lazarus,  in  grave-clothes,  with  the  shroud 
Close  wrapt  around  liim,  struggles  from  the  tomb  ; 

Yet  vigorous,  nor  with  death's  languor  bowed. 

Unloosed  the  napkin,  shows  his  ruddy  bloom : 

His  limbs  set  free,  at  once  their  manly  force  assume. 

5* 


66  THE  CROSS. 

XLVIII. 

Lo !  at  His  word,  th'  unseeing  orb  of  sight 
Finds  a  new  world  ;  undazzled  by  the  beam 

Of  new-born  day — exuUing  in  the  light 

Till  now  unknown — it  gladdens  in  the  gleam 
Of  morning,  shed  on  rock,  and  tow'r  and  stream. 

How  beauteously,  as  bursts  upon  the  soul 
Creation's  form — waking,  as  from  a  dream, 

Does  nature  to  that  eye  her  scenes  uproU ; 

While  feelings,  as  ofheav'n,  the  bounding  heart  control! 

XLIX. 

What  wisdom  drops,  like  manna,  from  His  tongue  ! 

Sublimity  of  truth  how  does  it  pour, 
By  sage  ne'er  taught — bards,  prophets,  never  sung  '. 

Egypt !  Greece  !  Rome  !  how  vain  your  boasted  store 

Of  knowledge,  when  contrasted  with  the  lore 
Of  Wisdom  from  above  !  how  doth  it  steal, 

Of  the  deep  heart  e'en  to  the  inmost  core, 
Sharper  than  two-edged  sword  :  and  there  reveal 
The  glory  of  its  light,  and  sin's  death-warrant  seal ! 

L. 

Proud  Pharisee  !  how  shall  thy  soul  endure 

The  scrutiny  of  that  all-piercing  eye  ; 
Before  whose  glance  not  heav'n  itself  is  pure, 

With  all  its  host  of  seraphim  on  high  ? 

Poor  Publican  !  thy  broken  hearted  sigh 
Is  heard,  and  rather  shall  accepted  be  ! 

Than  pray'r  of  those  who  fain  would  justify 
Tliemselves  to  Him,  Who  loves  not  pride  to  see  ; 
But  honours,  in  the  dust,  saintlike  humility. 


67 


LI. 

Pause  we  awhile,  and  gazing  on  the  bloom 
Of  vernal  nature,  hold  communion  sweet 

With  her  and  with  her  God  : we  may  resume 

Our  sacred  theme  ere  long : 'tis  not  unmeet 

To  pause  and  wonder,  when,  before  our  feet, 

The  countless  treasures  of  the  spring  are  poured 
Luxuriantly  : — while  dews  celestial  greet 

Each  op'ning  flow'r,  that  spreads  its  fragrant  hoard — 

Awhile  to  stop,  and  bless  the  bounty  of  the  Lord. 

LIL 

Lo !  'tis  the  tranquil  hour,  when  Morning  wakes 
From  her  repose  ;  when  on  the  eastern  hill. 

Like  a  young  queen,  in  loveliness  she  makes 
Her  court  a  paradise.     The  winds  are  still — 
Save  the  sol't  breeze  that  flow'rs  with  fragrance  fill : 

Smiles  on  the  forest — blushes  on  the  stream — 
Songs  from  tlu)  grove,  and  music  from  the  rill ! 

If  there  be  hour,  when  earth  as  Heav'n  doth  seem  : 

'Tis  710W — when  all  is  hallowed  by  IMorn's  sacred  beam. 

LIII. 

Behold  the  beauteous  hour  when  nature  weeps 

In  gladness  and  deep  joy  !  when,  as  a  bride 
Decked  for  the  bridegroom,  tears  of  transport  steep 

Her  vermeil  cheek,  with  rosy  blushes  dyed. 

On — on  she  fares,  in  beauty  and  in  pride  ; 
And  all,  beholding,  bless.     In  nature's  smile 

Is  no  deceit.     'Mong  men  doth  oft  betide, 
That  sunny  looks  but  mask  a  heart  of  guile. 
O  heav'nly  Truth  and  Love  !  not  yours  deception's  wile. 


68  THE   CROSS. 

LIV. 

Sluggard,  awake  !  arise  !  lose  not  the  prime 
Of  this  sweet  hour.     Now  let  thy  soul  ascend 

Aloft  from  earthly  things,  in  thought  sublime  ; 
In  holy  faith  and  trust,  thy  spirit  wend 
To  the  Eternal's  throne.     Morning  will  lend 

Her  wing,  to  waft  thy  pray'r,  as  incense  pure. 
Oh  !  seek  aloft  thy  Father  and  thy  Friend, 

Whose  loving  kindness  shall  unchanged  endure  ; 

Like  th'  everlasting  hills,  aye  faithful,  ever  sure. 

LV. 

Heav'nlier  smiles  the  Morn.     Ethereal  light, 

With  motion  tremulous,  the  clouds  on  high 
Gilding  with  glory,  spreads  its  lustre  bright 

Above,  around,  on  all  beneath  the  sky  ; 

Bestrewed  with  roses  ocean's  billows  lie, 
As  slumbering  in  visionless  repose  ; 

Tiie  winged  breeze  floats  wafting  odours  by  ; 

With  murmuring  the  wanton  riU  overflows 
Its  em'rald  bank ;  and  round  its  balmy  coolness  throws. 

LVI. 

FlowVs  waken,  as  upsteals  the  crystal  wave, 
Stirring  the  grassy  stems  around  their  bed  ; 

Th'  ascending  dews  the  forest's  leaflets  lave — 
As  loth  to  quit  the  earth,  curl  slow  o'erhead — 
Then  high  tow'rd  heav'n  their  snowy  volumes  spread. 

Free  over  ocean  white-winged  vessels  roam  ; 
Odours  of  land  around  the  breezes  shod  : 

To  cheer  the  sailor  in  his  wand'ring  home. 

With  incense-bearing  breath,  they  kiss  the  biU'wy  foam. 


THE  SEA  SHORE.  69 

LVII. 

'Tis  sweet  to  walk  upon  the  pebbled  strand, 

Where  the  calm  wave  a  gentle  murmur  makes  ; 
Where  glistens  white  beneath  our  feet  the  sand  : 

While  from  the  mountain-cliff  the  eagle  takes 

His  airy  flight — and  as  the  morning  breaks, 
High  o'er  the  fishy  deep  his  wing  doth  poise  ; 

The  distant  sea-bird's  cry  shrill  music  wakes  : 
E'en  the  hoarse  cormorant's  untimeful  voice 
0"er  briny  ocean  booms,  seeming  to  say — ^"Rejoice  !' 

LVIII. 

There  comes  a  freshness  from  the  brimming  seas, 

We  find  not  in  the  forest  far  away : 
Tho" — fanned  by  branches  of  unnumbered  trees, 

Waving  a  world  of  leaves — winds,  as  they  play, 

Embathe  with  balm  the  brow  ;  and  cooling  stray. 
Each  region  hath  its  own  peculiar  joys, 

Known  not  elsewhere,  if  bright  or  dark  its  day  : 
With  heart  in  heav'n — contentment  sweetly  buoys 
The  thankful  spirit  up,  above  life's  brief  annoys.    , 


THE  CROSS. 

BOOK  III. 

AKiLYSis.— Stanza  1,  Eternity.  2,  Man's  littleness.  God's  Providunce.  3 
— 5,  The  Poet  returns  to  his  Tlienie.  Ojipiessed  by  affliction,  he  feels  uiiwonhy 
'to  sing  Redemption.'  But  "lis  sutTring  nerves  the  soul.'  6,  7,  Christ  our  ref- 
uge.    8,  9,  Prjyer  for  divine  gujd  ince,  and  smctifying  grace, 

10,  Tlie  Saviour  in  pr.iyer  on  01  vet.  11 — 13,  Thu  plotripens.  14 — 17.  The 
Saviour  in  the  garden.  18 — 20,  Betrayed.  21 — 24,  Arraigned,  mocked,  and  con- 
demned. 27,  28,  His  Crucifi.xion.  29 — 38,  Supernatural  Darkness.  Earth- 
quake. The  V^eil  of  the  Temple  rent.  Some  of  the  dead  arise.  The  Centuri- 
on's Testimony.     4 1 ,  42,  'I  he  Eve  of  the  Sab'jath.     43,  Night. 

4.'),  4G  The  Morning  of  tlie  Siibbatli.  The  Lord  rises  from  the  tomb.  49,  E.x- 
liortalions.  53.  Invitation  to  come  to  the  Saviour.  56 — 58,  Satan  and  Death  de- 
fied. 59,  Christ  ever  pleads  for  man.  60,  01,  The  prom i.sed  Sabbath  of  the 
Millennium.  Hymn^'Sound  ye  the  Trumpet.'  03 — 67,  Aspirations  after  holi- 
ness ;  and  Prayer  fur  a  part  in  the  first  Resurrection.  63,  Rapid  approach  of  that 
day.  Hymn — 'Hosannah  to  the  Son  of  God  I'  09 — 73,  Contemplation  of  the 
Day  of  Judgment. 

74 — 77,  The  Poet  closes  his  Work  with  acknowledgments  of  his  owe  'noth- 
ingness,'in  comparison  with  so  great  a  subject:  yet  with  hope  of  'acceptance 
with  the  good' ;  aod  with  devout  aspirations  after  better  powers  beyond  the 
grave. 


L 

Eternity  !  thou  limitless  expanse  ! 

Duration's  shoreless  ocean  without  bound — 
Tow'rd  which  each  hour,  each  moment, we  advance: 

Whose  waves  roll  onward,  on,  without  a  sound — 

Save  the  deep  voice,  that  swells  from  the  profound 
Abyss,  where  sleep  in  night  th'  old  eras  past ; 

Which,  while  it  breathes  its  awful  tone  around, 
Seems  like  the  knell  of  Time — thefun'ral  blast 
Of  the  archangel's  trump,  when  Earth  shall  groan  her  last 


AFFLICTION.  71 

IL 

What  are  we  ?  as  Time's  torrent  stream  rolls  by— 

]Mere  atoms  tossed  upon  its  billows  free  ! 
Yet  watched  by  Him,  who  sits  enthroned  on  high, 

None  need  be  lost.     Tho'  impotent  are  we — 

Tempestuous  and  dark,  and  wild  that  sea  ; 
A  star  still  beacons  o'er  the  waters  wide. 

Still  points  the  haven  where  our  souls  would  be. 
King  of  the  floods  !  Thou  wilt  in  safety  guide, 
E'en  to  the  end,  all  those  who  in  Thy  truth  confide. 

III. 

Again,  my  sacred  theme,  to  thee  I  turn, 

Leaving  the  world,  and  worldly  care,  behind  ; 
Again  I  feel  within  me  ardour  burn  : 

And  as  the  bark — when  the  loud  northern  wind 

Uplifts  the  foamy  waters  unconfined — 
Darts  o'er  the  deep  ;  thus,  while  I  spread  my  sail, 

Oh  !  may  the  fav'ring  breeze  its  bosom  find : 
Thus  may  my  ship  glide  on  before  the  gale. 
Ilcav'n  !  let  not  thy  sweet  breath,  of  gentle  influence,  fail. 

IV. 

Unholy-!— how  can  I,  weak  worm,  presume 

To  sing  Redemption  ?  Dark — not  wholly  blind — 
"Thro'  this,  my  spirit's  so  ungenial  gloom, 

The  sombre  shadow  of  a  stricken  mind — 

Yet,  thro'  the  creviced  rock,  a  ray  I  find, 
To  cheer  the  cave  ;  where  thoughtful  and  alone 

I  rest  me  by  the  torrent's  wave  reclined : 
Whose  melancholy  murmurs  seem  the  moan 
Of  distant  days,  that  smiled  ere  earth's  best  form  had  flown. 


72  THE  CROSS. 

V. 

'Tis  sufF'rinsr  nerves  the  soul.     Smitten — at  lensth 
The  mind  becomes  more  firm,  if  not  more  pure  : 

Long  in  the  furnace — steeled  to  iron  strength, 
'Tis  taught  its  sternest  trials  to  endure : 
'Gainst  outward  ills  more  tempered,  and  secure. 

Earth  is  a  wilderness  of  trouble  still : 
Much  must  be  borne,  that  Death  alone  can  cure. 

Mighty  physician !  of  all  earthly  ill 

To  work  a  sov'reign  cure,  unrivalled  is  thy  skill. 

VI. 

Each  moment,  man  draws  nearer  to  liis  grave — 
The  sand  glides  fleetly  thro'  the  fragile  glass. 

Of  whom,  but  Christ,  can  we  assistance  crave, 
To  shield  us  from  the  storm  ?  if  flesh  be  grass — 
And  time  a  moment  that  must  briefly  pass — 

And  Death  the  entrance  to  Eternity  ; 
Heav'n,  Hell,  our  doom,  freed  from  this  mortal  mass  : 

Well  do  I  ween,  that  He  alone  can  be 

A  refuge  for  our  souls,  from  endless  wrath  to  flee. 

VII. 

Plan's  glory  fades — the  goodliness  thereof 

E'en  as  tlie  flow'r,  that  withers  in  the  field. 
Proud  infidel !  tho'  thou  at  this  dost  scoff, 

Witness  unto  its  truth,  thyself  must  yield. 

Tho'  now,  by  sin  and  evil  habit  steeled, 
Thou  put'st  afar  the  thought  of  dying  day  ; 

How  well  it  w  ere  for  thee — hadst  thou  (to  shield 
Thee  from  the  storm,)  a  friend — that  faithful  aye, 
Might  be  thy  sure  support,  thy  rock,  thy  staff,  thy  stay  ! 


THE  SAVIOUR  ON  OLIVET.  73 

VIII. 

Saviour  of  sinners !  teach  me  to  contemn 

All  things,  compared  with  Thee — a  heav'nly  crown  : 
Still  let  me  seek  a  nobler  diadem, 

Than  e'er  to  earthly  monarch  gave  renown. 

Tho'  friends  prove  faithless,  and  tho'  fortune  frown — 
:My  soul  on  Thee,  still  let  me  humbly  stay ; 

Still  let  Thine  eye,  in  pitying  love,  look  down  : 
And  lest  again  I  wander  from  the  way. 
Uphold  me  by  Tiiy  hand  ;  and  send  one  guiding  ray. 

IX. 

Thrice-Holy  God  !  Oh  !  set  thy  servant  free 

From  worldly  bondage :  sanctify  within 
Heart,  soul  and  spirit.     Let  my  nature  be 

Pure  in  its  essence :  washed  from  stain  of  sin : 

White  as  the  mountain  snow — when  rays  begin 
To  gild,  at  morn,  with  living  gold  its  steep. 

Seal  up  my  heart — let  nought  of  evil  win 
An  entrance  to  the  fount  of  feeling  deep  : 
Be  Thou  my  guard,  my  God,  whether  I  wake  or  sleep. 

X. 

On  Olivet,  all  night — till  early  morn 

Bade  blush  the  sky — the  Saviour's  prayer  arose. 
Aloft  by  breezes  of  the  mountain  borne. 

Still  on  He  prayed,  that  man  of  many  woes — 

Still  to  His  Father  did  His  wants  disclose; 
Yet  meekly  bov/ed  to  His  disposing  will  : 

"Not  mine,  hut  Thine  be  done"  His  spirit  shows. 
Thus,  in  each  circumstance  of  outward  ill , 

And  inward  woe,  my  heart !  be  thou  submissive  still. 

7 


74  THE    CROSS. 

XL 

Now  Satan's  guile  had  worked  its  purposed  ill; 

Now  madly  men  against  Messiah  strove : 
Yet,  while  they  wrought  to  controvert  His  Will, 

Furthered  the  counsel  of  Almighty  Love. 

Not  unsuccessful  did  their  strivings  prove — 
T'hf.y  bruised   Ilis  heel.     But  He  the  Serpent's  head 

Trampled  full  low ;  his  pow'r,  his  glory  clove 
Down  to  the  dust : — o'er  subject  earth  to  tread 
No  more,  as  monarch  proud,  his  vast  dca^ninion  spread. 

*  XIL 

Fast  rip'ning  now  the  plots  of  Sin  and  Hell, 
The  awful  hour  drew  near  ;  the  time  decreed 

By  Heav'n — with  prophecy  according  well — ■ 

When  He,  the  Lamb  of  God,  for  man  should  bleed  : — 
Mysterious  consummation  !  matchless  deed 

Of  Wisdom  and  of  Love  !  Justice  and  Grace 
With  mildest  mercy  blending  !  th'  utmost  need 

Of  souls  supplied  :  for  an  unworthy  race, 

Redemption  wrought — pardon  for  rebels  vile  and  base, 

XIIL 

Chief  rulers  with  the  priests,  conspiring,  take 
Counsel  together  ;  Jew  and  Gentile  share 

The  common  enmity  :  man — for  whose  sake 
He  condescended  form  of  flesh  to  wear — 
His  chiefest  foe.     Not  Satan's  self  could  dare 

A  deed  of  deadlier  malice  to  propound, 

Than  that  whose  guileful  plot  they  now  prepare  : 

Not  in  Hell's  annals  is  the  record  found 

Of  aught  so  black,  e'er  dplie  before  on  earthly  ground, 


GETHSEMANE.  75 

XIV. 

Now  weariedly  the  Saviour,  with  his  train 

Of  fond  disciples,  to  the  garden  tends : 
Among  whose  peaceful  shades.  He  oft  is  fain 

To  calm  his  heated  brow ;  when  Night  descends 

Softly  o'er  earth,  and  all  her  coolness  lends  ; 
Fanning  the  forehead  and  the  bosom  bare, 

With  the  sweet  breath  her  balmy  spirit  sends : 
Gently  diffusing  round  a  liquid  air, 
Mingled  with  scent  offlow'rs,  that  smile  luxuriant  there. 

XV. 

Silvery  twilight — all  around  at  rest — 

Its  drops  diffuses ;  weepings  of  the  sky. 
Pale  sorrowing  o'er  earth  with  woe  oppressed, 

And  Him — that  guiltless  One — soon  doomed  to  die. 

The  mountains  and  the  valleys  dreaming  lie ; 
The  winds  are  lulled  upon  the  couch  of  sleep ; 

Nature,  in  weariness,  hath  closed  her  eye  : 
And  while  the  heav'ns  o'er  sinful  mortals  weep, 
Creation,  in  its  trance,  doth  holy  silence  keep. 

XVI. 

Glitters  one  star  serenely  in  the  heav'n — 

Bright  watcher  in  the  east !  hailing  this  hour 
Of  loveliness,  its  eyelids  ope  at  ev'n. 

Its  meek  ray  trembles  over  tree  and  tow'r. 

Ocean,  and  forest-glade;  the  fairy  flow'r, 
Beside  the  rill,  is  painted  by  its  shine ; 

Alike  on  city-wall,  and  garden  bow'r 
Nourished  by  tender  dew,  its  beams  recline  : 
Too  pure  for  earth,  that  ray  sheds  lustre  all  divine. 


76  THE   CROSS. 

XVII. 

Getlisemane  !  thy  garden  views  a  sight 

Ne'er  seen  on  eartli  before  :  thy  walks  are  trod 
By  Jesu's  foes.     Fiends,  murderers,  unite 
To  hunt  Thee  down,  meek,  gentle  Lamb  of  God  ! 
Armed  as  for  battle,  forth  they  rush  abroad. 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  !  they  seek  Thee  there — 

Tracking  Thy  footsteps  on  the  grassy  sod — 
With  swords  and  staves  ;  as  tho'  they  sought  the  lair 
Of  some  fell  beast,  there  wont  from  slaughter  to  repair. 

XVIII. 

Judas  !  betray  thy  Master  with  a  kiss  ! 

IMalice  unmatched  !  immortal  perfidy  ! 
Methinks,  at  name  of  thee,  the  demons  hiss — 

Hell's  snaky  worms  thrust  out  their  tongues  awry. 

"Take  him,  and  hold  him  fast !"  And  thus  for  thee, 
I  ween,  the  sentence  ran  : — and  Satan  bound, 

And  will  hold  fast  that  form,  eternally. 
But  hush — my  soul !  breathe  not  such  thought  around  : 
'Tis  not  for  thee  to  scan  Heav'n's  mysteries  profound. 

XIX. 

With  insult  rude,  behold  Him  borne  along — 

Tumultuously  hurried  to  the  hall 
Misnamed  of  Justice —  by  a  murd'rous  throng  ; 

Whose  curses  and  revilings  Him  enthral, 

As  with  hell's  atmosphere.     How  bitter  fall. 
Upon  His  holy  ear,  the  taunt  and  gibe 

Of  mocking  multitudes  ;  who  late  did  call 
"Hosannah  to  the  son  !"  a  hostile  tribe 
Surrounds  Him  ;  Levite,  priest,  and  pharisee,and  scribe. 


THE  TRIAL.  77 

XX. 

Mingled  with  fellows  lewd  of  baser  sort, 

(If  baser  sort  can  be,)  along  they  fare, 
Witli  cruel  mockery  and  fiendish  sport : 

On  to  the  higii-priest's  palace  they  repair. 

Peter  !  let  thy  sad  fall  our  spirits  scare  ; 
Warn  us  of  weakness — teach  us  to  repose 

Our  trust  in  Him,  whose  pow'r  is  present  where 
His  saints  are  tried  : — who  chief  His  goodness  shows. 
Where  mortal  strength  must  fail ;  and  earth  no  aid  bestows. 

XXI. 

Now  on  to  Pilate's  judgment-seat  they  come. 

\o  murmur  breathes  tiiat  man  of  many  woes  ; 
But,  hke  a  lamb  before  its  shearers  dumb. 

Passive  and  silently,  as  victim,  goes. 

Not  anger's  fire  His  patient  spirit  knows  ; 
Serene  w-ithin  His  bosom  charity. 

With  ardent  love,  thro'  all  His  heart  o'erflows : 
He  hears  not — heeds  not — tho'  infuriate  be 
His  foes  :  but  views  afar  the  bright  futurity. 

XXII. 

IJy  Galilee's  proud  tetrarch  set  at  nought — 

(A  murderer  to  Judah's  King  preferred,) 
Sealed  upon  Ilis  throne  of  holy  thought, 

With  soul  unmoved.  He  answered  not  a  word. 

Tho'  many  lying  witnesses  averred 
Things  that  He  know  not :  meek  in  majesty, 

As  tho'  their  cruel  slanders  all  unheard — 

He  stands  in  wrapt  communion;  with  an  eye. 

And  brow  superior,  fixed  in  heav'nly  trance  on  higli. 

7*     • 


78  THE  CROSS. 

XXIII. 

They  smite  Him  on  the  head — the  Living  Lord  ! 

Arrayed  in  smiles  of  blessed  humility. 
They  spit  upon  Him,  as  a  thing  abhorred, 

And  worship  Him,  in  solemn  mockery  ; 

In  seeming  adoration  bend  the  linee. 
Heav'n  !  sleeps  thy  thunder  ?  does  thine  awful  knell — 

Vengeance  Omnipotent !  o'er  land  sea, 
Crushing  the  scoffers  down  to  deepest  hell — 
Loud  as  til'  arciiangcl's  trump,  its  peals  indignant  swell  ? 

XXIV. 

fc5C0urged,spit  on,  crowned  with  thorns,  smote, wronged,  reviled, 

Robed  in  derision's  garb,  our  Lord  we  view  : 
Superior  still  He  stands,  in  meekness  mild, 

Nor  wears  a  frown.     What  more  can  malice  do  ? 

A  deadlier  purpose  yet  their  hearts  pursue. 
"Away  with  such  a  fellow  !  crucif}' — 

"His  blood  be  on  our  heads,  our  children  too." 
'Let  him  not  live  another  day  !'  they  cry  ; 
And  wretched  Pilate  yields,  nor  dares  their  will  deny. 

XXV. 

Hark  !  from  Jerusalem  a  voice  of  woe 

Bursts  on  the  ear.     It  is  the  wailing  cry 
Of  faithful  hear'.s,  that  dread  afilicticn  know, 

To  see  their  Master  led  along  to  die. 

Ye  mournful  band  !  behold  the  hour  is  nigh, 
liike  a  pierce  swelling  flood,  the  hostile  throng 

Sweeps  from  the  gate  ,  with  shouts  that  pierce  the  sky — 
Tumultuous — with  contumely  and  wrong, 
They  urge  tlieir  victim  on,  goading  His  steps  along. 


CALVAKY.  79 

XXVI. 

Onward  he  fares — bearing,  without  a  groan, 

The  burden  of  His  Cross  to  Calvary  ; 
His  bleeding  feet  are  torn  by  gravel-stone, 

With  stripes  His  back  all  mangled  cruelly  ; 

Totters  beneath  the  weight  each  languid  knee, 
With  weak  exhaustion  bent :  His  brow  is  faint. 

Like  lamb  unto  the  slaughter  led  is  He  ; 
Bearing  reproach — along  without  complaint 
He  meekly  moves  :  wliile  none  His  bosom-woes  can  paint. 

XXVII. 
Hark  to  tlie  hammer's  sound,  whose  heavy  dint 

Deep  thro'  the  tender  flesh  the  nails  impels  ! 
See  how  the  spikes  those  hands  and  feet  imprint 

With  wounds,  while  down  a  crimson  current  swells  ! 

See — and  when  Sin  her  tale  alluring  tells, 
Behold  the  Cross ;  and  think  what  Jesus  bore 

For  thee,  and  tremble.     While  thy  heart  repels 
Her  wiles  delusive — go  and  sin  no  more  : 
But  love  and  serve  thy  Lord,  till  life's  brief  day  be  o'er. 

XXVIII. 

High  on  the  Cross,  behold  yon  bleeding  form. 

Mocked  by  the  multitude  with  hellish  spite. 
Wide  waves  around  a  sea,  o'er  which  the  storm 

Of  various  feelings  swell  with  fearful  might ; 

As  sweeps  the  tempest  o'er  the  mountain  height, 
Rcndinnf  the  forest.     Let  within  thee  reign 

Deep  awe,  my  soul  !  contemplating  that  siglit : 
Welcome  reproach,  and  toil,  and  grief,  and  pain — 
Think  on  thy  sufTring  Lord,  nor  let  his  wounds  be  vain. 


80  THE    CROSS. 

XXIX. 

Clouds  come  upon  the  heav'ns,  in  dense  array. 
Like  legions  to  the  battle.     From  the  sky 

Their  black  battalions  chase  the  king  of  day  : 
And  ever  and  anon,  blasting  the  eye — 
Flings  the  red  bolt  its  burning  flashes  nigh. 

Onward — still  on — like  troubled  torrent's  wave. 
Dusk  masses  move,  up  to  the  zenith  high  : 

Till  earth  becomes  dark  as  the  gloomy  grave  ; 

And  ne'er  before  her  realms  such  signs  of  suffering  gave. 

XXX. 

'Tis  the  sixth  hour.     Death  hath  his  flag  unfurled 

On  Calvary.     No  tempest  waves  its  wing — 
Silence  as  of  the  tomb  is  on  the  world. 

It  seems  the  hour  doth  sense  and  reason  bringf 

Even  to  nature's  most  inan'mate  thing  ; 
While  horror  holds  them  in  its  grasp  spell-bound. 

The  mountain  stream  forbears  its  murmuring ; 
The  cataract  leaps  down  without  a  sound  : 
And  silence,  as  a  deluge,  rolls  its  voiceless  tide  around. 

XXXI. 

Palled  with  the  mighty  gloom,  the  skies  are  black, 
And  fun'ral  shadows  brood  upon  the  sea  : 

No  ship  upon  the  deep  its  course  can  track  : 
The  pilot,  pausing,  upward  fearfully 
Turns  his  mute  gaze.     On  Lebanon,  tlie  tree 

Whose  giant  form  for  ages  bore  the  blast, 
In  shudd'ring  terror  writhes  its  brandies  free  ; 

And  falling,  groans  in  agony  aghast ; 

OnCarmel  rocks  are  rent — yawn  wide  its  caverns  vast. 


THE-  EARTHQUAKE. 

XXXII. 

Ocean,  too,  summons  to  tli'  embattled  coast 

Might  of  o'erwhelming  waves  :  the'  not  a  breath 

Be  sth-ring  o'er  the  expanse  of  that  liuge  host ; 
That  sullenly  sweeps  on  to  shores  of  death, 
Savage,  yet  silent  all.     Around — beneath — 

Sits  expectation.     Earth  and  air,  and  sea, 
Seem  fettered  by  the  chain,  whose  links  enwreathe 

Tlie  overburdened  heart ;  that  heavily, 

Droops  'neath  the  weight  of  awe,  and  matchless  mystery. 

XXXIII. 

Hark  !  hear — while  bows  His  meek  submissive  head — 
The  Saviour  breathes  His  last  confiding  prayer  : 

Hear  Him  aloud,  ere  life's  faint  spark  be  fled. 
Cry  "It  is  finished."    Howlings  of  despair 
Echo  from  hell :  while,  thro'  the  upper  air, 

A  thousand  harps  struck  by  the  heav'nly  host. 
Harmoniously  responding  vibrate  there. 

Wide  waves  yon  sea  of  heads,  as  tempest-tossed 

The  l)iirwy  main.  Lo  !  Jesus  now  gives  up  the  ghost. 

XXXIV. 

Outspeaks  the  Earthquake,  (while  loud  thunders  thrill,) 

With  its  terrific  roar  :  whose  echo  sweeps, 
Like  knell  of  ruined  worlds,  o'er  plain  and  hill : 

^Making  the  earth,  that  now  not  mutely  weeps, 

Tremble  to  its  foundation.     Ocean  keeps 
Silence  no  more  !  but  (like  stupendous  wall,) 

High  as  the  heav'ns  uplifted,  overleaps 
All  bound — while  mighty  deep  to  deep  doth  call : 
Then,  as  with  weight  of  worlds,  on  prostrate  earth  doth  fall. 


81 


82  THE  CEOSS. 


XXXV. 


The  temple's  veil  is  to  the  bottom  rent — 

Rocks  shattered— th'  earthquake  in  his  wrath  strides  by 
I)owu  to  t!ie  cliarnel-vault  blue  liglitnings  sent, 

Blaze  round  the  corse's  brow  ;  wiiose  livid  eye 

Starts  into  life,  with  wild  intensity. 
The  sheeted  dead  arise  :  Creation  reels, 

With  shudd'ring  horror — pale  the  sick'ning  sky  ; 
Tiie  mighty  shock  earth  to  its  centre  feels : 
Incessant  streams  of  death  the  thunder-cloud  reveals. 

XXXVI. 

''' Tis  finished !"  as  beneath  the  pillars  twain. 

Triumphantly  did  Samson  bow  in  death  ; 
Sin's  povv'r  and  enmity  at  once  were  slain, 

When  Jesus  on  the  Cross,  resigned  His  breath. 

Crown  Him,  Eternity  !  with  conq'ror's  wreath  ; 
Rejoice  O  Earth,  and  Heav'n  !  the  vict'ry's  won  : 

Hell !  tremble  in  thy  gloomy  gulf  beneath. 
Ruler  Omnipotent!  behold — Thy  Son, 
Crushing  the  serpent's  head,  hath  rescued  Man  undone. 

XXXVII. 

Stern  stood  a  rugged  soldier,  in  his  pride  ; 

Nor  trembled,  when  all  round  gave  signs  of  fear  : 
Contemptuously,  in  scorn,  tlie  people  eyed. 

But,  when  the  Saviour's  dying  hour  drew  near — 

When  quaked  the  universe,  in  darkness  drear  ; 
Remorse  implanted  in  his  soul  its  tooth : 

Like  lightning-flashes  did  conviction  sear. 
His  heart — tho'  steel — was  touched  with  tender  ruth  ; 
And  witnessed  well,  tho'  late,  to  Heav'n's  eternal  truth. 


THE  CENTURION.  83 

XXXVIII. 

"  Twit's  ivas  the  Sonof  Gob  !"     The  saying  fell, 

As  licrht  from  heav'n,  on  the  bewildered  crowd  : 
Thrilled  hearts,  responsively,  innum'rable. 

The  meek  disciples — by  affliction  bowed — 

See,  at  thy  word,  effulging  from  its  cloud, 
Hope's  star :  their  skies  no  longer  on  them  lour. 

And  many  to  His  name  allegiance  vowed, 
Wlio  owned  another  master  till  that  hour  ; 
But  now  shake  off  their  bonds,  and  praise  Redeeming  pow'r. 

XXXIX. 

Von  Head — how  droops  it  in  abandonment. 

Death's  dereliction!  how  each  limb  doth  show 
The  languor  left,  when  life's  last  string  is  rent ; 

When  the  frail  flesh  hath  felt  the  final  throe  ! 

'Christian  is  this  thy  God  ?'  Vain  sceptic — no  I 
'Tis  but  the  mortal  part  of  Christ  that  died  : 

Nature  Divine  nor  death,  nor  change  can  know. 
Not  long  that  form  shall  separate  abide  ; 
But,  with  the  Godhead  joined,  for  aye  be  glorified.' 

XL. 

Not  to  behold  corruption  ;  tho'  the  grave 

Mu.st  hide  a  treasure,  such  as  ne'er  before 
It  held  in  chamber  of  its  fun'ral  cave  : 

Nor  yet  again  shall  hold  for  evermore. 

Three  days  that  absent  form  shall  hearts  deplore. 
That  wept  in  wonder  at  His  agony  : 

Then  sec,  e.xuUingly,  the  morn  restore. 
From  the  dark  tomb,  their  much-loved  Master  free; 
No  more  to  die,  but  Conqueror  of  pow'rless  Death  to  be. 


84  THE  CROSS. 

XLI. 

Gone  is  the  gloom.     That  awful  period  passed, 

The  congregated  clouds  disparting  flee: 
And  lo  .'  the  ruler  of  the  day  hath  cast 

His  mantle  from  him  ;  and  o'er  land  and  sea, 

Looks  from  his  throne,  in  sov'reign  royalty  : 
"With  light  of  living  gold  creation  steeps. 

Yet  all  looks  strange — horror  of  mystery 
Still  darkens  nature's  eye  :  that  wildly  keeps 
Its  stony  glance  of  fear  ;  and  neither  smiles,  nor  weeps. 

XLir. 

'TJs  finislied !  Lo  !  the  solemn  Sabbath  eve 

Steals  o'er  the  world.     The  spear  that  side  hath  torn — 
The  multitudes  the  scene  of  sufp'rinff  leave  : 

All  save  yon  band,  which  yet  remain  to  mourn  ; 

Deep  sunk  in  sadness,  yet  not  quite  forlorn. 
Alternate  hope  and  fear  within  them  rise — 

Now  seeming  as  by  sorrow  overborne, 
They  downward  drcop  :  then  faith  with  bright'ning  eyes, 
Looks  thro'  the  veil  of  tears  ;  and  precious  balm  supplies. 

XLin. 

'Tis  night — the  skies  with  more  than  wonted  gloom 

Are  vested.     Earth  beneath  the  dismal  shade 
Of  tenfold  darkness,  cheerless  as  the  tomb, 

Sinks  to  her  sleep ;  the  sun  his  couch  hath  made 

In  cradle  of  the  deep  ;  with  grief  decayed. 
The  winds  enwrap  the  moon  in  sable  shroud  ; 

In  melancholy  dreams  is  nature  laid : 
Slumber  the  stars — each  on  its  pill'wy  cloud  ; 
The  heav'ns,  o'er  Jesu's  grave,  in  speechless  woe  are  bowed. 


THE  THIRD  DAT.  85 

XLIV. 

Why  sleep'st  thou,  Earth  ?  thou  Moon— ye  starry  fires  ? 

Nature !  why  sleepest  thou  ?  behold  yon  grave  ! 
Wliy  wake  ye  not  and  weep  ?    Hate  never  tires — 

Tho'  weariness  of  woe  may  slumber  crave — 

But  wakes  and  watches.     Armed  with  spear  and  glaive, 
7Mie  torch-light  streams  o'er  steel-girt  warriors  round  ; 

That,  vigilant,  the  entrance  to  yon  cave 
Guard  : — while  v/itliin,  in  trance  of  death  profound, 
The  Saviour's  breathless  form  angelic  hosts  surround. 

XLV. 

Comes  Morning ,  with  her  spell,  upon  the  earth, 

Waking  the  sleeper  with  the  song  of  bird  : 
Nature  is  steeped  in  dew  of  heav'nly  birth ; 

Ocean  from  slumber  hath  his  billows  stirred  ; 

The  flow'ry  grass  is  cropped  by  flock  and  herd. 
All — all  looks  glad.     Morning  !  how  canst  thou  smile  .' 

Nature  !  why  is  the  bird's  sweet  music  heard  ? 
Why  rove  abroad  the  flocks,  devoid  of  guile ; 
Wiien  lies  that  sacred  form,  in  darkness  drear,  the  while  ? 

XLVI. 

I  low  press  the  heavy  hours  upon  the  heart. 

Like  an  eternity !  how  lingers  time ! 
IIow  tediously  the  lagging  moments  part. 

In  their  slow  flight !  But  lo !  the  eastern  clime 

Blushes  with  dawning  of  a  day  sublime  : 
And  brighter  than  yon  sun,  whose  liquid  gold 

Decks  with  a  dazzling  deluge  morning's  prime  ; 
Ascending  from  the  tomb,  behold — behold 
The  Lord  of  life,  again.  His  glorious  face  unfold  ! 

8 


84  ^  THE  CROSS. 

XLVII. 

Hence !  melancholy  doubt,  and  sad  suspense; 

No  more  yon  blissful  band  your  grief  shall  know  : 
liOve,  gratitude,  and  wonder,  all  dispeivse 

Their  thrilling  joy  ;  and  bid  each  heart  o'erflow. 

This  is  a  joy  tlieir  souls  shall  ne'er  forego — 
Yet  not  to  ihem  its  gladness  be  confined  : 

But  Saviour  !  on  our  souls  its  balm  bestow  ; 
Still  be  the  mem'ry  of  that  morn  enshrined 
Deep  in  the  inmcst  heart,  thro'  all  its  fibres  twined. 

XLvin. 

Tis  finished.     No'iglit  remains,  on  earth,  to  do 
For  man's  Redemption.     Christ  His  work  hath  done  ; 

Paid  is  the  ransom — debt  no  longer  due  : 
Death — Satan  conquered  ;  priceless  vict'ry  won, 
Man  !  play  thy  part — sin's  snares  delusive  shun  ; 

Choose  life  ;  trust  in  the  strength  of  God  a.lone  ; 
The  race  for  Heav'n  with  patient  vigour  run. 

Hourly  seek  help  from  Him  upon  the  Throne  ; 

And  let  thy  steadfast  faith  by  holiest  life  be  shown, 

XLIX. 

Repent — believe — love  God  with  all  thy  soul, 

Heart,  spirit,  strength ;  keep  conscience  undefiled : 
Hardness  endure  ;  thy  passions  proud  control ; 

Firm,  bold,  courageous,  humble,  patient,  mild. 

Be  anger  from  thy  spirit  far  exiled ; 
Meek,  merciful,  yet  brave,  thy  Saviour  serve  ; 

Walk  with  the  wise;  let  folly  wander  wild : 
Ponder  thy  path — to  crooked  ways  ne'er  swerve  ; 
From  wicked  deeds,  and  words,  thy  guarded  soul  preserye, 


EXHORTATIONS.  87 

L. 

Thy  neighbour  love.     Upon  the  waters  cast 
Thy  bread  ;  and  let  thy  wool  the  naked  watm  : 

Plead  for  the  widow— shelter  from  the  blast 
The  homeless  orphan  ;  vengeful  strife  disarm 
With  words  of  peace.     Do  good  to  all ;  and  harm 

To  none — Bot  e'en  the  worm  before  thy  feet. 
Love  be  the  master-spring — the  secret  charm — 

The  mighty  motive  to  obedience  meet ; 

And  gratitude  a  spell  of  gentle  lD0uence  sweet. 

LI. 

Do  tliis — and  more.     Yet,  when  thine  all  is  done, 

But  profitless  and  void  thyself  esteem  : 
For  refuge  to  the  wounds  of  Jesus  run ; 

Seek  of  His  precious  blood  the  healing  stream  : 

Trust  in  mere  man  a  vain  dependence  deem. 
Thy  works,  as  fruit  of  faith,  will  be  received  ; 

Christ  has  atoned — all  else  is  but  a  dream  : 
The  soul  is  justified,  which  hath  believed  ; 
And  from  the  curse  of  sin,  at  once,  by  faith  retrieved. 

LIL 

A  man  once  built  a  house — digging  full  low — 

And  founded  it  on  rock.     The  floods  arose, 
The  stream  with  fury  beat,  the  storm  did  blow ; 

The  elements  their  utmost  rage  disclose : 

It  trembled  not,  nor  fell.     E'en  such  are  those, 
Who  found  their  faith  upon  the  living  Rock. 

No  shuddering  the  steadfast  spirit  knows  ; 
But  strongly  overbears  the  tempest's  shock  : 
All  else  is  sliding  sand,  that  yields  to  feeblest  stroke. 


38  THE  CROSS. 

LIII. 

Come  to  llie  Saviour ;  ye  who,  wearily 

Drooping  along  life's  road  with  care  oppressed, 
A  brighter  world  than  this  desire  to  see  : 

Where  troubles  cease,  the  weary  are  at  rest. 

Oh  J  seek  the  consolation  of  His  breast ; 
Whose  heart,  for  man,  with  boundless  love  o'erflows  : 

Come  each  to  Him,  a  not  unwelcome  guest ; 
.  And,  on  His  bosom,  quite  forget  your  woes. 
He  only  can  give  rest — the  spirit  sweet  repose. 

LIV. 

Wearied  and  heavy-laden,  at  His  feet 

Fling  down  your  burdens — all  your  anguish  throw ; 
Nor  fear  from  Him  a  harsh  repulse  to  meet : 

Not  unrelieved  from  thence  shall  any  go — 

But  pardon,  and  reprieve,  the  sinner  know ; 
And  happiness,  and  love,  each  bosom  fill. 

All  are  invited — none  rejected.    Lo  I 
His  hands  are  opened  wide  :  and  all,  at  will, 
May  share  His  bounteous  gifts  ;  and  find  a  welcome  still. 

LV. 

Fly  to  the  Saviour — let  not  fear  benumb. 

Christ  has  declared — "Whoever  comes  to  Him, 
Shall  not  be  cast  aAvay."     Therefore  we  come 

To  thee,  the  Living  God  !  From  darkness  dim, 

Where  shadows  as  of  death  around  us  swim  ; 
High  to  the  realm — where  the  archangels  prone 

Fling  down  their  starry  crowns  ;  and  seraphim, 
In  adoration,  bend  before  the  Throne — 
We  come,  with  all  our  woe,  trusting  in  Christ  alone. 


SATAN  AND  DEATH  DEFIED. 

LVI. 

Proud  potentate  !  in  ill,  supreme  and  worst, 

Satan  !  thou  vainly  tri'st :  our  help  is  near. 
Go — howl  in  hell  thy  blasphemies  accursed ; 

And  bid  congenial  friends  thy  ravings  hear  : 

Omnipotence  is  nigh — we  know  not  fear. 
Safe  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand,  we  smile 

(When  thou,  and  thine,  to  check  our  course  appear,) 
At  all  thy  malice,  mockery,  and  guile. 
Hide,  'neath  the  hissing  wave,  thy  loathed  aspect,  vile  ! 

LVII. 

And  thou — Vifhoso  mortal  shaft  did  never  err — 

Misfeatured  phantom,  with  the  hollow  eyes  ! 
Seated  upon  thy  throne  the  sepulchre, 

With  sullen  voice  siiU  mutt'ring  mysteries  ; 

Dreaming  that  man  for  aye  should  be  thy  prize : 
Thine  empire,  like  thy  victims,  finds  a  tomb. 

Where  now  are  all  thy  boasted  victories  ? 
Willi  woe,  those  orbs  a  ghastlier  glare  assume. 
Hcnco — hence  !  go  hide  thy  hideousncss  in  outer  gloom. 

LVIII. 

Vile  spectre  of  the  grave  !  dost  thou  deride, 
And  think  the  Saviour's  triumph  to  annul  ? 

With  lank  jaw  laughing  at  vain  mortals'  pride, 
Still  glare  those  eyeless  orbs,  of  malice  full  ? 
Around  thy  rattling  bones,  and  sightless  scull. 

Still  weaves  the  warp  of  hell  thy  garment's  grain  , 
Yet — yet,  methinks  thy  glories  show  but  dull. 

Thine  was  a  fearful  deed,  when  Christ  was  slain  : 

But  lo  !  He  comes — thou  di'st ;  while  He  shall  ever  reign. 

8* 


83 


90  THE   CROSS. 

LIX. 

Dead,  buried,  ris'n,  enthroned  above  the  sky, 
Our  Advocate  and  Judge — at  His  right  hand, 

Th  '  Eternal  Father's— Mediator  high, 

Still  dotli  He  plead  for  man.     Around  Him  stand 
Th'  encircling  hosts  of  heav'n  :  the  saintly  band 

Worship  with  honours  due.     Accomplished  years 
Bring  on  the  era  ;  when,  with  mild  command, 

Immanuel  shall  dry  His  people's  tears  ; 

And  Salem,  'neath  His  sway,  forget  her  woes  and  fears. 

LX. 

A  thousand  years,  the  prophets  erst  foretold, 
Messiah  over  earth  should  peaceful  reign ; 

A  thousand  years  the  world  His  sway  behold; 
All  lands  forget  their  agonies,  and  pain  : 
Wlien  Satan,  bound  with  adamantine  chain, 

No  more  should  hurt  upon  His  holy  hill ; 

Good  will,  and  peace,  possession  should  maintain 

Of  human  hearts :  and  boundless  blessing  fill — 

E'en  to  o'erflowing — earth,  unmixed  with  aught  of  ill. 

LXI. 

This  Sabbath  of  release,  era  sublime 

Of  rest  and  holiness,  draws  on  apace. 
Yet  ere  it  visits  earth — that  sacred  time — 

Shall  unbelievers  vex  the  sons  of  grace  ; 

And  War  once  more  uplift  his  horrid  flice, 
Stern  frowning  upon  Zion  :  all  in  vain  ! 

For  Jesus  comes  to  rout  the  fiendish  race. 
And  faithless  men.     Upon  the  battle-plain, 
Methinks  I  hear  a  voice  ;  which  sings  this  martiu}  strain. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  DECISIOK.  81 


'Sound  ye  the  trumpet  for  God  and  for  Zion ! 

Thunder-clouds  sweep  o'er  Jehoshaphat's  vale 
Warriors,  awake  !  'tis  the  voice  of  the  Lion — 

Lion  of  Judah — that  swells  on  the  gale. 


Jadah !  awake  from  the  trance  of  thy  slumber; 

Souls  of  the  mighty  !  arise  from  your  sleep  : 
Burst  ye  the  bonds  that  your  spirits  encumber  ; 

Onward  !  roll  on,  like  the  surge  of  the  deep  ! 


Alultitudes  throng  in  the  Vale  of  Decision  ; 

Fearfully  bright  is  their  battle  array  : 
Drained  by  their  draughts,  tliy  dark  waters,  old  Kishon  .' 

Swoll'n  by  ihc  v/intcr — have  vanished  away. 


Ilark  to  the  tread  of  the  faithless  advancing! 

Prophets !  they  trample  the  land  of  your  birtli  : 
I  Lirk  (o  the  tramp  of  the  battle  steeds  prancing  ! 

Shake  to  thy  centre,  thou  firmly-based  earth  ! 

6.. 

Not  at  the  threats  of  that  host  be  thou  siiakcn  ; 

At  pomp  of  their  proud  legions,  tremble  not  thou  : 
Field  'gainst  Ilis  foes  hath  Immanuel  taken ; 

Earth,  with  its  pow'rs,  at  His  presence  must  bow. 


92  THE   CROSS. 


ComGS,He  to  conquer,  archangals  attending ; 

Burst  of  the  lightning-cloud  heralds  His  way : 
Diiwn-star  of  beauty,  o'er  Zion  descending, 

To  her  sad  mourners  ho  brings  a  blessed  day. 


Heav'n  opens  wide  its  high  gates  everlasting  : 

Behold  Kim,  on  white  horse,  The  Faithful  and  Tiue  ! 
With  eyes  like  the  fire-flame  a  stern  glory  casting, 
-  Behold  Him~a  monarch  majestic  to  view  ! 

8. 

Crov/ns  on  His  head,  and  with  kingly  attire  on. 

He  comes  as  from  Eozrah,  with  scourge  and  with  rod  ; 

With  robe.s  rolled  in  blood,  and  with  sceptre  of  iron  ; 
The  wine-press  to  tread  of  the  fierceness  of  Gcd. 

9. 

Hark  to  the  trump,  and  the  signal  of  slaughter  ! 

Thunders  of  battle  are  pealing  afar : 
Death  rages  wild  ; — and  his  dark-winged  dauglitcr, 

Terror,  stalks  wide  in  her  vestments  of  war. 

10. 

Carnage  rules  there ;  and  the  eye  of  the  vulture 
Glares  thro'  tlie  gloom,  as  it  deepens  o'erhead. 

Beasts  of  the  desert !  in  ghastly  sepulture- 
Give  ye  a  grave  to  the  newly  fall'n  dead. 


ARMAGEDDON.  03 


11. 


Flashes  the  falchion— the  strong  armour  shattered, 
Mighty  ones  fall ;  and  Earth  foams  with  a  flood  : 

At  blast  of  His  nostrils,  the  foemen  are  scattered  ; 
The  war-steeds  wade  on,  to  the  bridles  in  blood. 


Tempest  and  storm,  from  their  prison-house  rushing, 
Blend  with  huge  hail  in  its  fearful  descent : 

Th'  earthquake  convulsively  myriads  is  crushing  ; 
Mountains  and  rocks  at  His  presence  are  rent. 

13. 

Lightning-bolts  beam  ;  and  the  lustre  they  shed  on 
Fields  of  the  slaughter,  shoots  back  to  the  sky. 

Va,lley  of  death  !  thy  deep  shades,  Armageddon  ! 
Burn  with  the  blaze  His  foes  view  but  to  die. 

14. 

Topliet !  enlarge  thee — extend  thy  dread  border  : 
Gape,  black  Gehenna !  with  yawnings  more  Vv'ide. 

Battle  sweeps  on  : — but  in  direst  disorder, 
Rolls  o'er  thy  dark  gulf  the  rage  of  its  tide. 

15. 

Woe — woe  to  man,  when  he  strives  with  his  Maker  ! 

Pow'rless  and  feeble,  he  fights  but  in  vain : 
Vengeance — in  victory — burneth  to  slake  her 

Blood-seeking  thirst,  in  the  gore  of  the  slain, 


94  XIIE  CROSS. 


16 


Woo — woe  lo  man  ;  when  unholj',  unfaithful, 
'Gainst  his  good  Lord  he  hath  dared  lift  his  hand. 

Vengeance  hath  slept : — but  the  day  of  her  wrathful 
Anger  is  come  ;  and  how  then  shall  he  stand  ? 

17. 

Strewed  in  the  dust — like  the  leaves  of  the  forest, 
Mould'ring  on  lap  of  cold  winter  away — 

Host  of  the  faithful !  tlie  Lord  thou  adorest 

Hath  trod  down  thy  foes,  in  His  fury's  great  day. 

18. 

Shout  ye  the  song  of  tlie  Lamb  and  of  Moses  ! 

Palms  and  white  robes  to  His  foU'wers  are  given  : 
Apollyon  no  longer  His  people  opposes, 

Down  to  the  depths  of  the  fi'ry  lake  driv'n. 

.    %v      .'  19. 

Jesus  hath  triumphed — glad  multitudes  hail  Him 
Victor  transcendent,  o'er  land  and  o'er  sea  : 

Conqueror  crowned,  in  His  kingdom  of  Salem, 

He  rules,  and  He  reigns,  o'er  His  ransomed  and  free. 

20. 

Glory,  dominion,  might,  majesty,  honour, 

Sway  universal,  to  Jesus  our  King  ! 
Zic  n  exults,  with  His  smile  shed  upon  her  ; 

Her  courts  with  His  praise,  her  high  palaces  ring.' 


TRUE  GLORY. 

LXII. 

That  voice  hath  ceased  to  vibrate  on  this  ear. 

Rude  and  unworthy,  tho'  its  notes  might  seem  ; 
Yet,  not  ungrateful  to  my  soul,  came  near 

Its  accents  ;  bringing  o'er  the  mind  a  dream, 

Of  days  bright  with  unclouded  glory's  beam. 
Slill  haunts  this  heart  a  vision  of  the  time, 

When  love  shall  gild  of  years  the  rolling  stream; 
Earth,  beautiful  as  Heav'n's  elysian  clime, 
With  loveliness  be  decked,  and  majesty  sublime. 

LXIII. 

Oil  !  for  a  heart  where  holiest  love  may  dvvell, 

And  light  my  being  with  a  ray  divine  : 
Oh  !  for  a  heart,  where  love  unutt'rable, 

Making  its  home,  may  seal  me  ever  Thine. 

Saviour !  still  be  Thy  dove-like  spirit  mine  ; 
Siill  let  the  mind  of  Christ  my  mind  control : 

Still  may  the  star  of  peace  serenely  shine, 
As  morning  on  the  waters,  o'er  my  soul ; 
And  gild  the  waves  of  life,  that  darkly  by  me  roll  I 

LXIV. 

Tlien,  when  Thou  com'st  at  the  appointed  day, 

To  reign  above  Thy  chosen  people ; — then. 
Look  lovingly  upon  ray  senseless  clay  ; 

And  bid  ray  breathless  dust  revive  again. 

Dead  to  the  world,  regarded  not  by  men, 
The'  now  my  name— as  in  the  silent  tomb — 

Slumbers  unknown,  obscure  ;  beyond  the  ken 
Of  curious  critic  :— let  a  nobler  doom. 
In  that  fast-coming  day,  my  bright'niug  soul  iUumc! 


95 


96  THE  CROSS. 

LXV. 

Why  should  I  mourn — fho'  darkness,  and  the  deep 

Waters  of  woe,  have  curtained  o'er  my  head  ; 
Tho'  suns  of  transient  joy  have  sunk  to  sleep  j 

And  she,  of  earth  the  dearest  form,  is  fled  ? 

Tho'  vernal  flowers  lie  with'ring  on  the  bed, 
In  which  J  of  late,  their  infant  buds  were  born ; 

Long  treasured  hope  in  one  sad  moment  dead  : 
Yet  am  I — am  I  but  a  wretch  forlorn  ? 
Sees  not  my  soul,  thro'  clouds,  heav'n's  blessed  ctcmal  morn  ? 

LXVI. 

Is  there  not  that  Vvithin  me,  which  shall  live, 

When  yonder  starry  worlds  forsake  the  sky  ? 
Sun  of  the  universe !  thy  guidance  give — 

Illume  my  darkness,  Sov'reign  Lord  on  high  ! 

Omnipotence  !  tliine  aid  be  ever  nigh  ; 
Nor  let  the  grave  my  wiser  hope  devour— 

Let  not  my  dust  in  dark  oblivion  lie  : 
Uphold  me  still  with  Thy  strong  arm  of  pow'r  ; 
And  comfort  me,  thro'  life,  and  death's  ungenial  hour. 

LXVII. 

Oh  !  that  my  spirit,  with  the  loved  of  earth, 

May  stand  before  Thee  pure,  arrayed  in  white  ; 
Fresh  in  the  dew  of  its  immortal  birth  ; 

In  robe  of  righteousness,  unsullied,  bright ; 

And  basking  in  the  beams  of  heav'nly  light, 
Beneath  Thy  smile,  may  we  our  voices  raise — 

While  echoes  to  the  song  th'  empyreal  height ; 
Hymn  with  th'  angelic  host  eternal  praise ; 
And  with  enraptured  eyes,  upon  Thy  glory  gaze. 


THE  SECOND  ADVENT.  97 


LXVIII. 


The  hour  is  coming — on  th''  ethereal  air, 

I  hear  the  rushing  of  its  rapid  wing — 
When  weary  Earth  shall  Sabbath  quiet  share  ; 

And  revel  in  the  rest  the  moments  bring. 

Yet,  ere  it  comes,  let  me  essay  to  sing 
Once  more,  tho'  weak,  in  unpresuming  lay, 

(Tho'  haply  to  my  hand  vibrates  the  string 
(Jnmusical,)  the  dawning  of  that  day  ; 
When  Love  Divine  its  star  shall  in  the  skies  display. 


IIosANNAH  to  the  Son  of  God  !'  in  beautiful  array, 
Behold  His  heralds  on  the  hills,  ere  smiles  the  new-born  day  ! 
In  shudow  of  the  twilight  hour,  th'  angelic  host  is  seen. 
Descending  where  the  mountain  strews  its  garb  of  vernal  green. 


And  while  they  walk  in  glory  on  the  everlasting  hills ; 

A  fragrant  dew,  like  that  of  dawn,  gently  around  distils — 

A  balmy  breeze,  like  that  of  morn,  sighs  o'er  the  verdant  steep — 

Tears,  blended  with  the  pray'rs  of  hearts,  all  tenderly  that  weep ! 


'Ilosannah  to  the  Son  of  God  !'  the  promised  hour  is  nigh. 

'Twas  but  a  little  space — We  saw  earth's  Eden  blossoms  die ; 

And  fairer  than  those  transient  flow'rs,  a  form  in  death  grew 

dim: 

Nature !  thou  knewcst  not  thy  Lord  ;  else  hadst  thou  died  with 

Hira. 

9 


98   •  THE    CROSS. 


4. 


'Twas  but  a  little  space — a  brief,  yet  darkly-visioncd  hour — 
Sorrow   kept  hold  of  faithful  hearts,  with  spell   of  sadd"ning 

pow'r; 
'Twas  but  "a  little  while"  the  grave  obscured  that  wondrous  brow  : 
O  Death  !  thine  was  a  fearful  deed : — but  where's  thy  vict'ry 

now  ? 


Ethereal  fire  is  kindling  on  the  mountain's  distant  peak  ; 
A  crimson  blush  is  burning  now  on  Nature's  virgin  cheek  : 
Night,  with  her  gloomy  train  of  hours,  while  wends  afii  reach  cloud, 
From  her  reviving  limbs  unwraps  her  melancholy  shroud, 

6. 

3Iorn,  as  a  m'gbtj;  floo;],  o'erflows  magnificent  the  sky  ; 
E'en  as  a  spreading  ocean,  rolls  its  azure  depths  on  high  : 
Crested  with  crown  of  fi'ry  gold,  each  billow  in  its  play, 
Sparkles  and  shines ;  while  floats  along  th'  empurpled  pomp  of  day. 


Whence  pours  that  mighty  ocean — morn's  magnificence  above  ? 
Whence  that  illimitable  sea,  whose  waves  rolls  on  in  love  ? 
Jesus  !  Thine  eye  sheds  glory  on  dull  earth,  that  mourned  awhile; 
The  universe  hath  kindled  up ;  and  gladdens  with  a  smile. 

8. 

Not  as  when  Salem  once  beheld,  with  wildering  surprise. 
Encircled  by  the  fisher  train — in  humble,  lowly  guise — 
Her  King,  the  Conqueror,  arrive  :  bright  bursting  on  the  view, 
JJehold  !  archangels  at  His  feet  their  starry  chaplets  strew, 


th£  great  day.  99 

9. 

ile  comes  !  shout,  spirits  of  the  saints  !  man's  eloquence  is  weak  ; 
Earth's  proud  comparatives  are  vain,  His  grandeur  to  bespeak  : 
Heav'n  hath  no  likeness  to  His  form,  in  star  or  radiant  sun. 
Whereunto  can  we  resemble  the  Most  High,  th'  Eternal  One  ? 

10. 

Praise  Him,  majestic  Ocean  !  with  the  choral  shout  of  waves ; 
Mountains  !  His  Name  re-echo  from  your  deep-resounding  caves .: 
Thunders!  with  your  tremendous  voice,  His  praise  siiblimely  sing : 
Jeiiovaii  comes  to  rule  and  reign — Hosannah  to  our  King  ! 

LXIX. 

Now  turn  we  to  contemplate,  O  my  soul ! 

The  final  scene — that  great,  deciding  day— 
\Vhen  Earth  and  Time,  shall  reach  their  final  goal ; 

The  skies,  as  shrivelled  scroll,  vanish  away : 

Ascending  from  their  tombs,  beneath  the  ray 
Of  bright  Eternity,  the  dead  shall  tend 

To  the  gi-eat  judgment-seat ;  and  Him  survej'^, 
Before  whose  throne  all  worlds  must  subject  bend : 
Of  man  th'  unerring  judge,  the  contrite  sinner's  friend. 

LXX. 

Nor  let  this  meditation  profitless 

Prove  unto  thee,  my  heart !  but  deeply  traced, 
Within  the  chamber  of  thy  dark  recess, 

Still  be  that  scene — from  mem'ry  ne'er  effaced ; 

Warning — but  not  condemning — 'gainst  the  waste 
Of  life's  so  transient  hour,  with  utt'rance deep 

Speak  to  my  soul :  for  time  by  sin  disgraced, 
Wake  penitence  ;  and  warn  her  aye  to  keep 
Her  garments  white  and  pure,  and  ne'er  o'er  work  t©  sleep. 


100  THE  CROSS. 

LXXI. 

Methinks  the  books  are  opened.    Trembling  stand 

Far  to  the  left,  the  multitudes  aghast ; 
While  to  the  right,  exultingly,  a  band 

Spreads  limitless  throughout  extension  vast. 

Whiter  than  sunlit  snow  around  them  cast, 
The  Saviour's  robe  of  righteousness  I  view ; 

No  spot,  nor  shadow  of  a  stain  hath  passed 
Upon  that  beauteous  robe's  unsullied  hue  : 
Such  as  the  Saviour  is,  appear  his  foU'wers  true. 

LXXII. 

Each  sev'rally,  as  do  his  deeds  deserve, 
Shall  find  a  recompense  and  sentence  sure  ; 

Not  Justice  now  from  punishment  can  swerve, 
Or  Vengeance  longer  sinful  souls  endure  : 
Far  to  the  right— the  holy,  just  and  pure, 

Ascend  to  the  empyreal  realms  of  bliss, 
For  ever  from  all  fear  of  change  secure  ; 

And  sinners,  driv'n  afar,  plunge  in  th'  abyss  ; 

Where  Death  eternal  dwells,  undying  serpents  hiss, 

LXXIII. 

Oh !  when  that  great,  that  dreadful  day  is  come  ; 

Be  not  this  soul  of  mine,  my  Saviour  !  found 
Without  a  wedding  robe,  confused  and  dumb  : 

But  brighter  than  the  sun,  be  clothed  around 

With  righteousness ;  and  beams  of  truth  surround, 
And  love,  and  holiness  and  faith,  this  soul. 

Then,  let  the  final  trump  tremendous  sound — 
The  firmament  shrink  up  like  shrivelled  scroll — 
And  vast  eternity  its  years  of  endless  joy  unroll ! 


CONCLUSION.  101 

LXXIV. 

Thus  faintly  have  I  touched  upon  a  theme, 

The  liabitants  of  heav'n  with  wonder  scan. 
Let  not  the  hearer  it  presumption  deem, 

For  one  so  weak  to  sing  Redemption's  plan. 

The  feeblest  voice  may  cry — 'behold  the  Man, 
Who  died  the  death  for  us  on  Calvary  !' 

"Beliold  the  Lamb  of  God  !"  each  tongue  which  can, 
Aloud  should  cry ;  and  warn  all  souls  to  flee 
To  Him,  whose  blood  alone  from  endless  wrath  can  free. 

LXXV. 

Critic  !  thy  censure,  (should  this  meet  thine  ear) 

Weighs  not  with  me.     Deeply  within  is  known 
My  nothingness  !  thy  frown  I  may  not  fear ; 

Nor  anxious  seek  that  smiles  to  me  be  shown  : 

Approval  is  v/ell  sought  from  Heav'n  alone. 
Love  of  the  praise  of  man  oft  brings  a  snare ; 

Fear  does  the  same  :  yet — freely  will  I  own — 
Pleasing,  to  profit  all,  much  would  I  bear  : 
Acceptance  with  the  good  fain  would  my  spirit  share. 

LXXVL 

O  Saviour  !  now  this  hand  its  harping  stays. 

If  1  have  sung  amiss,  be  mine  the  blame  ; 
If  otherwise,  be  Thine  alone  the  praise  : 

But  condemnation  can  my  spirit  claim — 

Mine  be  th'  unworthiness,  and  mine  the  shame. 
Yet — yet  to  me,  and  my  weak  work,  extend 

Thy  pardon  and  forgiveness  :  tho'  my  name 

Be  breathed  but  witii  derision — Jesu  !  lend 

One  fav'ring  smile ;  lead,  and  conduct  me,  to  life's  end. 

9* 


102  THE   CKOSS. 

LXXVII. 

Then — when  the  dimness,  and  the  cloud  are  gone 

TJiat  hang  upon  my  heart ;  wlien  my  cleared  eye 
Views  the  bright  world  that  Thou  for  man  hast  won 

WhenHeav'n,  with  all  its  mysteries  on  high, 

Tlie  glorious  vision  of  eternity. 
Bursts  on  my  soul : — then  may  I  hope  to  sing 

Such  strains  as  my  weak  pow'rs  on  earth  deny ; 
Hymning  on  golden  harp,  far  echoing. 
Immortal  praise  to  Thee,  from  each  delighted  string. 


*; 


NOTES  ON    THE  CEOSS. 


On  p.  53.  Book  II.  stz.  IX.  1. 

And  thou — ivhose  tongue  long  since  is  dumb  in  death ! 
The  worship'per  of  Reason,  phrensy-driven. 
Note. — Thomas  Paine. 

On  the  same  page  ;  stz.  XI.  3. 
The  starry  seer — ivhose  soul  loas  all  divine; 
Note. — Newton. 

On  p.  57.    Book  II.     stz.  XXII.  1. 

/  saw  a  den  beneath  a  burning  sky — 
Note. — The  Black  Hole  at  Calcutta. 

On  p.  96,  Book  III.  stz.  LXV.  4. 
And  she,  of  earth  the  dearest  form,  isjledl 

Note. — His  young,  beautiful,  and  amiable  wife.  For  some  brief 
notice  of  his  deep  and  lasting  sorrow  on  this  account ;  which  is 
exhibited  in  many  passages  of  his  works  :  see  the  sketch  prefixed 
to  this  volume. 


HYMNS; 


AND 


Sacrcb  |)ocm0. 


''SrrTC  'H'  Lord  with  »'ndnf  19  : 
C«rae  Uclure  His  presonce  with  singing." 
PealraCf. 


10* 


*^ 


"HYMNS,   &a 


"Serve  the  Lord  with  glaJneBS  : 
Come  before  His  presence  with  singing." 
Psalra  C.  a. 


HYMN    I, 
1. 

Morning  again,  with  beauteous  eye, 
Hath  looked  upon  our  pleasant  fields ; 

And  rays  of  glory  shoot  on  high,  < 

Like  splendour  from  a  thousand  shields. 

u. 

Oh !  that  my  soul  were  calm  and  bright, 
As  yonder  sea's  untroubled  wave  : 

Oh  !  that  my  soul  were  filled  with  light, 
And  love  to  Him  who  died  to  save. 

m. 
Earth  !  thou  art  beautiful: — to  me 

Beautiful  too,  thou  Sun  of  Morn  ! 
That  look'st  in  lustre  on  the  sea, 

And  smil'st  above  as  newly  born. 

IV. 

Thou  ha.st  a  goodly  race  to  run ; 

Thy  glorious  path  is  in  the  sky  : 
Thine  is  a  steady  course,  bright  Sun ! 

Tliou  wand'rcstj  wav'rcst  not,  on  high. 


108  HTMKS  AITD 

V. 

Oh !  that  my  soul  might  run  like  thee, 
And  surely  walk  the  heav'nly  way  : 

Strengthened,  established,  settled  he} 
And  never  wander,  never  stray. 

HYMN    II. 

I. 
Dear  twilight  of  the  west, 

How  soft  tliine  hour  to  me  I 
The  sun  hath  sunk  to  rest ; 

And  smiles  are  on  the  sea. 
As  friends  at  parting  smile — 

That  sweetness  will  not  flee  ; 
But  lingers  for  a  while  : 

So  seems  it  now  to  me. 

Tho'  sun  be  far  away, 

The  gentle  waters  gleam ; 
And  smiles  of  gladness  play 

On  ocean's  pleasant  stream. 
Thus  fare  it,  Soul,  with  thee  !: 

Thy  sun  to  set  may  seem  :: 
Glad  smiles  upon  thee  be, 

In  mem'ry  of  his  beam  \ 

m. 
Yet,  yet  a  little  while, 

And  He  that  comes  will  come : 
Serenely  wilt  thou  smile. 

When  He  dispels  thy  gloom. 


SACKED    POEMS.  109 

IV. 

Wait,  wait  His  blessed  will ; 

Bid  clam'rous  fear  be  dumb  ; 
Be  firm,  be  faithful  stiJi  : — 

For  He  that  comes  will  come  I 

HYMN  III, 

I. 
The  root,  from  which  the  tree  was  hewn. 
May  boast  a  thriving  offspring  soon ; 
And  tender  branches,  young  and  fair. 
May  wave  again  in  beauty;  where 
Ti)e  parent  oak  once  proudly  stood! , 
The  mighty  monar-ch  of  the  wood, 

n. 
Yea  !  tho'  that  root  wax  old  below, 
That  slock  may  seeming  sapless  grow  ; 
Yet,  thro'  the  scent  of  waters  near, 
'Twill   bud  again,  and  fresh  appear. 
But  man — when  dead,  and  gone  from  view  ; 
Where  is  he  ?  shall  he  bloom  anew  7 

III. 
As  waters,  failing  from  the  sea; 
As  floods  decayed,  and  dried  up  be — 
So  man  lies  down,  and  ne'er  shall  rise  ; 
Till  gone  be  earth,  and  heav'ns,  and  skies ; 
He  shall  not  wake  from  sleep  profound. 
While  earth  rolls  on  her  yearly  round. 

10-' 


110  HYMNS   AND 

rv. 
The  mountain,  falling,  comes  to  nought ; 
The  rock  from  its  strong  base  is  brought ; 
The  water  wears  aw^ay  the  stone  : 
All  things,  that  from  the  earth  have  grown, 
Are  wasted  still  away,  away ; 
And  thus  man's  worldly  hopes  decay. 

Y. 

Yet  there's  a  hope,  which  ne'er  shall  fade, 
Tho'  man  must  lie  in  dust  decayed  ; 
Tho'  earth  be  frail,  and  flesh  be  grass  ; 
There  is  a  life,  which  ne'er  shall  pass  ; 
And  man,  tho'  dead,  shall  live  again  j 
And  live  in  endless  bliss,  or  pain. 

VI. 

If  Christ  have  washed  him,  Heav'n's  his  home  ; 

The  long  Eternity  to  come 

Shall  see  him  blest,  and  blest,  and  blest. 

With  nought  to  rob  his  soul  of  rest. 

If  Christ  wash  not,  his  fate  is  fixed — 

Eternal  ruin  !  wrath  unmixed ! 

VII. 

Oil !  let  us  then  be  greatly  wise. 
A  point  of  time  this  life  supplies, 
That  our  eternal  state  turns  on  : — 
If  that  be  lost,  our  all  is  gone. 
Let  us  that  point  of  time  secure, 
To  make  our  heav'nly  calling  sure. 


SACKED   rOEMS.  HI 

HYMN  IV. 
I. 

What  mighty  mountain,  tow'ring,  vast, 

Rises  to  bar  my  onward  way  ? 
What  gloomy,  fearful  chasm,  is  cast 

Across  the  path  in  which  I  stray  ? 

II. 
And  thousand  foes,  in  arms,  advance 

Adown  that  steep  and  narrow  pass  ; 
And  arrows  gleam  with  fi'ry  glance, 

Snakes  spring  from  'neath  the  stunted  grass. 

III. 
How  can  the  traveller  essay 

To  combat  'gainst  such  fearful  odds  ? 
Weak  fool !  fear  not — hold  on  thy  way  : 

Thy  help  is  sure,  thy  strength  is  God's. 

IV. 

He  will  not  leave  thee,  nor  forsake ; 

Tho'  Earth  and  Hell  against  thee  rise : 
Tho'  flesh  may  fail,  and  spirit  quake; 

He'll  bring  thee  to  thy  home,  the  skies. 

V. 

He  will  thy  strong  deliv'rer  prove. 

From  cv'ry  fear,  and  ev'ry  foe  : 
He'll  fold  thee  in  His  arms  of  love, 

And  shelter  thee  from  harm  and  woe ; 

VI. 

Crown  tlico,  when  all  tliy  warfare's  done, 
With  an  immortal,  glorious  crown  ; 


112  HIMNS    AND 

Make  thee  joint-heir  with  His  dear  Son, 
And  sharer  of  His  rich  renown ; 

VIL 

Bring  thee  to  Heav'n's  bright  dwelling-place ; 

Bless  thee  with  all  that  Love  can  give  : 
Unveil  to  thee  His  wondrous  face  ; 

And  bid  thee  look  on  Him.  and  live. 

HYMN    V. 

I. 
Our  Gcd  is  our  Helper,  and  shield  ; 

We  fear  not  the  battle,  the  foe : 
The  sword  of  the  Spirit  v/e'll  wield, 

And  smite  till  the  tyrant  lies  low. 

n. 
The  tyrant,  whose  enmity  cast 

Wide  space,  'tween  our  souls,  and  their  God- 
Our  warfare  against  him  shall  last, 

Till  down  in  the  dust  he  be  trod. 

III. 
Sin  !  sin^  and  his  pestilent  train, 

Have  kept  us  in  thraldom  too  long : 
We  shrink  not  from  peril,  from  pain, 

In  the  help  of  the  Lord  are  we  strong. 

rv. 
Like  soldiers  inured  to  the  war, 

The  heat  of  the  battle  we'll  brave  ; 
And  carry  our  conquests  afar, 

Thro'  Him,  that  is  miglity  to  save. 


SACRED    POEMS.  113 


HYMl^  VIw 


I. 

Father  !  I  fain  to  Thee  would  pray, 
When  morning's  star  of  light 

Smiles  o'er  the  couch  of  new-born  day, 
With  sparkling  tear-drops  bright. 

11. 
Father  !  to  Thee  my  thanks  are  dfte, 

Whate'er  of  good  I  prove  : 
Thy  mercies  ev'ry  morn  are  new, 

Fresh  tokens  of  Thy  Love  ! 

III. 
I  thank  Thee,  that  mine  eye  can  see 

Earth's  charms  of  beauty  round  ; 
Mine  ear  can  hear  sweet  melody. 

Music's  delightful  sound. 

IV. 

For  gifts  of  nature,  time,  and  sense, 
I  thank  the  pow'r  that  gave  ; 

For  promise  of  a  life  far  hence, 
And  bliss  beyond  the  grave. 

V 

If  creatures  seem  so  fair  to  me, 

So  lovely,  meet  for  love ; 
What  must  the  Great  Creator  be, 

Who  sits  enthroned  above  ! 

V!. 

Most  blessed  Guardian,  Father,  Friend  f 
I  thank  Thee  lor  Thy  grace  ; 


114  HYMKS  AKD 

Thy  bounteous  Love,  that  knows  no  end  ; 
Thy  mercy  to  our  race. 

HYxMX   VII. 
I. 

When  Revelation's  glorious  morn 

First  dawned  on  Earth,  with  gladsome  ray  ; 

Man's  soul  spj.-ang  up  as  newly  born, 
Shook  off  the  dust,  in  which  she  lay  : 

Rose  from  the  dungeon  depths  of  nigh.t ; 

Revelled  in  that  ethereal  light : 

Beheld,  with  joy,  her  darkness  flown ; 

And  life,  bliss,  freedom,  all  her  own  ! 

n. 
That  God — whose  nature,  dimly  traced 

By  Reason's  eye,  she  saw  above — 
Seemed  far  beyond  her  friendship  placed  5 

Too  high,  too  great,  for  mortal's  love  : 
Throned  in  his  vastness,  pow'r  extreme, 
Monarch  most  mighty,  sole,  supreme ; 
Eternal,  boundless  ;  King  of  space, 
Maker  of  Worlds,  and  Time  and  Place, 

m. 
His  strength  was  seen  in  all  around, 

Above,  below — in  earth  and  sky  ; 
His  fearful  thunder  shook  the  ground, 

The  lightning  spake  of  Him  on  high  : 
The  tempest — ocean's  m.ighty  swing. 
When  her  proud  waves  confess  their  King — 


SACRED   POEMS.  115 


Plague,  earthquake,  nations'  fall  and  rise, 
All  told  His  Pow'r ;  were  Man  but  wise. 

IV. 

Creation,  Providence,  displayed 

His  Wisdom  too  ;  tho'  much  was  dark. 
His  Moral  nature,  hid  in  shade, 

Rose  not  to  view ;  the'  Learning's  spark. 
Struck  out  by  force  and  labour's  dint, 
Flashed  on  the  soul  like  fire  from  flint : 
And  Man  in  dismal  darkness  trod  ; 
For  he  "by  w^isdom,  knew  net  God." 

V. 

But  lo  !  'lis  noon — 'tis  brightest  day  ; 

Mercy  has  bade  the  clouds  remove  : 
Eehold  His  Goodness*  rich  display, 

His  ?uoral  nature — "God  is  Love!" 
Love  without  measure,  fathomless  ; 
Which  thousand  tongues  can  ne'er  express 
Love  gracious,  bounteous,  kind,  and  true  ; 
That  passeth  all  that  man  e'er  knew  I 

HYMN  VIIT. 

I. 
Great  God  !  let  not  an  hour  go  b}', 

Without  a  pray'r  to  Thee ; 
Were  't  but  the  breathing  of  a  sigh. 

The  spirit's  incense  free  : 

11. 
Were't  but  the  groan  that  inly  swells, 
For  sin,  and  guilt  abhorred  ; 


J  16  HYMNS    AND 

The  motion  of  a  thought  that  tells. 
We,  too,  have  pierced  our  Lord. 

HYMN  IX. 

I. 

Who  arc  these  in  bright  array. 

With  faces  fixed  tow'rd  Canaan ; 
Who  tread,  thro'  deserts  wild,  the  way, 

Tiie  narrow  way  to  Canaan  ? 
•pilgrims  we,  and  seek  the  land, 

The  promised  land  of  Canaan  ; 
Soldiers,  too,  a  royal  band. 
And  marching  on  to  Canaan. 
Saviour !  blest  Saviour ! 
Do  Thou  conduct  to  Canaan^ 
Be  Thou  our  guide,  our  strenjjth,  our  all, 
Till  we  arrive  in  Canaan. 

TT. 

We  must  toil,  and  \vc  must  fight, 

Before  we  come  to  Canaan  ; 
We  must  serve  our  Lord  aright, 

Before  wpland  in  Canaan. 
.Satan  hedges  up  our  path^ 

Lest  we  arrive  in  Canaan  : 
But  a  strong  protector  hath 

Each  traveller  to  Canaan, 
Saviour!  &c. 

in. 
Banded  fiends  oppose  our  way, 
While  we  journey  on  to  Canaan, 


SACRED    POEMS.  117 


m. 
And  wicked  men,  as  fierce  as  they, 

Would  stop  our  course  to  Canaan  : 
But  Jesus  Christ,  the  Miglity  God, 

Himself  leads  on  to  Canaan  ; 
And  as  we  go.  His  staff  and  rod 
Will  comfort  us  to  Canaan. 
Saviour  !  &c. 

IV. 

Tlio'  thousand  lierccst  foes  surround, 

To  shut  us  out  of  Canaan ; 
Yet  ever  let  us  ever  stand  our  ground, 

And  firmly  march  to  Canaan  : 
In  one  united,  faithful  band. 

Break  thro'  our  way  to  Canaan  ; 
And  fight  for  ev'ry  inch  of  land, 

Till  we  arrive  in  Canaan. 
Saviour !  &c. 

V. 

When  mighty  tempests  are  abroad, 

And  cloud  our  view  of  Canaan; 
When  thunders  blacken  o'er  the  road, 

The  narrow  road  to  Canaan  ; 
When  floods  of  fire  are  round  us  poured, 

And  seem  to  compass  Canaan  : 
Th'  unfailing  promise  of  our  Lord 

Shall  cheer  us  on  to  Canaan. 
Saviour  !  &c. 

VI. 

Then  let  us  ever  watch  and  pray, 
And  fight  our  foes  to  Canaan ; 
11 


118  HYMNS  AND 

Nor  cast  our  confidence  away, 

But  boldly  strive  for  Canaan  : 
And  look  to  Jesus,  as  we  go, 

Thro'  flood,  and  fire,  to  Canaan  ; 
And  follow  Christ  thro'  weal,  and  woe, 
Till  we  are  safe  in  Canaan. 
Saviour  !  blest  Saviour  ! 
Do  thou  conduct  to  Canaan  : 
Be  thou  our  guide,  our  strength,  our  all ; 
Till  we  arrive  in  Canaan.' 

HYMN  X. 
I. 

Blessed  Saviour  !  make  us,  now, 

Such  as  Thou  delight'st  to  see  : 
Holy,  just,  and  good,  art  Thou  ; 

Such  this  moment,  let  us  be. 
Make  us  pure,  and  true,  and  kind  ; 

Clad  in  perfect  charity  ; 
Ever  blessed  with  all  the  min'2, 

Lord  of  Love  !  that  was  in  Thee. 

n. 
Let  ns  live  without  offence, 

Pure  in  heart,  and  pure  in  mind  ; 
^       Drive  all  evil  tempers  thence. 
Let  us  be  from  sin  refined  : 
Purely  purge  away  our  dross, 

All  our  inward  stains  remove ; 
Let  us  count  all  things  but  loss, 
Compared  with  Thee,  and  Thy  dear  Love. 


SACKED  POEMS.  ]  1 9 


III. 

When  ungodly  passions  rise  ; 

Say  to  the  winds,  and  waves,  'be  cahn  !' 
When  wounded  by  our  enemies, 

Oh  !  then  pour  in  Thy  heahng  bahn : 
When  unholy  thoughts  steal  in. 

Let  us  drive  them  whence  they  came  ; 
Keep  us  free  from  secret  sia. 

Keep — oh !  keep  us  in  Thy  name. 

IV. 

Drive  the  demon  sloth  away  ; 

Might,  and  pow'r,  and  action  give  ; 
Let  us  labour  a\l  the  day, 

Let  us  labour  while  we  live : 
Let  us  labour  in  Thy  cause. 

Still  work  on  with,  fervent  zeal ; 
Siill  uphold  Thy  righteous  laws, 

Still  Thy  quick'ning  Spirit  feel. 

T. 

Never  let  us  slothful  sit, 

While  our  work  remains  to  do ; 
Whatsoe'er  our  hands  find  fit, 

Let  us  faithfully  pursue  : 
Toil  for  Thee,  and  for  our  race — 

Serve  our  generation  still; 
Rightfully  fill  up  our  place, 

And  labour  on,  thro'  good  and  ill. 


120  HiTVINS    AND 


DEATH'S  LAST  VICTORY. 

I. 

'Lo  !  I  come  from  the  shades  of  Hell, 
On  my  pale  horse  mounted  well ; 
On  my  warrior-steed,  to  ride 
O'er  the  Earth,  in  her  peopled  pride. 

ir. 
'Lo  1  I  wander  forth  again, 
To  reap  my  final  harvest  of  men  ; 
I  come  the  last  of  the  living  to  slay, 
And  glut  the  grave  with  its  dcstmed  prey. 

ni. 
'I  must  toil,  ere  tlie  day  be  past; 
And  pile  of  the  dead  a  mountain  vast : 
Ere  night  looks  down,  with  startled  eye, 
And  the  broad  moon  blushes  red  on  high. 

IV. 

'Countless  ages  have  come,  and  gone, 
Since  first  I  girded  my  keen  sword  on : 
Numberless  years  have  rolled  away. 
Since  first  my  arm  was  lifted  to  slay. 

V. 

'But  ne'er,  since  the  primal  curse  was  sped, 
Which  peopled  my  gloomy  realms  with  dead  ; 
Came  there  such  a  day  of  doom, 
To  wither  the  flow'rs  of  mortal  bloom. 


SACRED  FOEMS.  1'21 

VI. 

'Lo,  my  banuer-cloud  in  the  sky  ! 
Broadly  it  waves,  and  blackens  on  high  : 
Lo,  my  standard  o'er  earth  displayed  ! 
Deeply  it  darkens  the  land  with  shade. 

^^-^  VII. 

'Earth  hath  often  been  scattered  with  blood  : 
But  ne'er  was  she  deluged  with  such  a  flood. 
As  shall  be  poured  to-day  by  me, 
For  this  is  Death's  Last  Victory !' 

VIII. 

I  saw  him  on  his  war-steed  pale  ; 
I  saw  him  scatter  his  darts  like  hail : 
His  voice  was  thunder  as  he  passed  ; 
His  breath,  the  pois'nous  desert  blast. 

IX. 

Onward  he  went  with,  a  gloomy  frown  : — 
I  saw  him  smite  the  living  down  ; 
I  saw  him  slay  their  hosts  in  fight ; 
And  there  was  none  to  resist  his  might. 

X. 

There  was  none  to  cope  with  Death  : 
Thousands  fell  before  his  breath  ; 
lilillions  sank  beneath  his  feet ; 
Shrivelled  as  grass,  in  the  furnace-heat. 

XI. 

The  lightning  bolt,  where'er  ho  went, 
Gashed  the  ground  with  a  fearful  rent ; 

11* 


122  HYMNS   AND 

The  earth  yawned  deeply,  as  he  sped  ; 

And,  closintr,  swallowed  her  millions  of  dead. 

XII. 

The  sea  slept  not  upon  the  shore  ; 
But  rose  on  liigh  with  deaf  ning  roar : 
And  swept  his  tracks,  with  a  broad'ning  wave, 
And  buried  the  dead  in  a  deeper  grave. 

XlII. 

The  vulture  came,  witli  dismal  shriek, 
And  plunged  in  a  corse  her  rav'ning  beak  ; 
Tiie  grim  wolf  howled  o'er  his  mangled  prey, 
And  rent  ihc  flc^sh  from  the  bones  away. 

xiv. 
But  a  sulph'rous  bla?t  swept  o'er  the  plain  : 
And  the  wolf  lay  stiff,  on  the  shrinking  slain  ; 
And  hushed  were  the  cries  of  the  rav'ning  brood ; 
And  a  breathless  calm  o'er  the  earth  ensued. 

XV. 

Earth  !  tlie  plumes  of  thy  pride  are  rent — 
Yet  wake  not  the  voice  of  thy  last  lament. 
Nature  !  thy  goodly  fruits  are  strown  ; 
Yet  mute  be  sound  of  thy  tortured  groan. 

xxi. 
Ocean  thy  waves  may  widely  sweep — 
Yet  dumb  be  the  roar  of  tiiy  waters  deep  : 
For  Oce.tn;  and  Earth — the  land,  the  sea — 
►Shall  sink  in  thy  gulf,  Eternity  ! 


SACKED  POEMf-  123 


DEATH  CONQUERED. 

I. 

|)reamer  !  hast  thou,  with  fancy's  eye, 
Beheld  the  dread  destroyer  nigh  ? 
Didst  fear  the  frown  of  his  visage  grim  ; 
And  was  there  none  to  cope  with  him  ? 

n. 

Dreamer !  and  hast  thou  ne'er  heard  tell 
Of  Him,  who  vanquished  both  Death,  and  Ilell  ; 
Wlio  took  from  Death  both  his  dart,  and  sting  ; 
And  made  him  a  weak  and  harmless  thing  ? 

ni. 
Come  !  and  Til  show  thee  a  royal  sight ; 
The  Lamb  that  bled  on  Calv'ry's  height : 
Come  !  and  I'll  shew  thee  His  wondrous  blood  ; 
That  conquers  Hell  v/ith  its  healing  flood. 

IV. 

Come !  bow  thee  before  His  mighty  throne  ; 
Where  the  highest  seraph  worships  prone, 
And  down  the  crown  of  his  glory  flings : 
For  the  Lamb  is  Lord,  and  King  of  Kings. 

V. 

He  is  thy  Lord,  and  serve  Him  thou  ; 
And  fear  the  frown  of  His  awful  brow  : 
For  He  alone  hath  pow'r  to  slay, 
And  cast,  in  the  depths  of  Hell,  away. 


1 27  HYMNS  AND 

VI. 

But  if  Thou  love  Him,  with  all  thy  heart; 

And  bid  all  evil  from  thee  depart  : 

He'll  own  thee,  and  love  thee,  and  make  thee  blest ; 

And  bring  thy  soul  to  His  own  bright  rest. 


"TBE  FOOLISHNESS  OF  PREACHING." 

I. 

Tho'  with  a  voice,  as  thousand  thunders  loud, 
The  Preacher  of  the  Gospel-news  be  heard  ; 

Tho'  light,  as  flashes  from  the  lightning- cloud, 
Glances  and  glitters  from  each  pointed  word  : 

n. 
Tho'  pond'rous  truth,  like  thunder-bolt,  be  thrown, 

With  giant's  vigour,  and  with  angel's  might : 
It  weighs  no  more  upon  man's  heart  of  stone, 

Than  down  of  feather,  touch  of  morning's  light. 

m. 
Feeble,  and  pow'rless,  comes  its  crushing  weight, 

On  the  rude  rock  of  man's  insensate  heart ; 
As  flinty,  in  its  natural  estate. 

As  is  the  netlier  mill-stone's  hardest  part. 

IV. 

Till  God's  good  spirit  breathes  on  each  dry  bone ; 

And  moulds  anew  the  chaos  of  the  breast : 
Breaks  up,  and  mollifies,  that  heart  of  stone ; 

And  makes  "the  foolishness  of  preaching"  blessed. 


SACRED   POEMS.  1S5 

I 

V. 

"Let  there  be  light  !"     Light  rushes  like  a  feed, 
And  sweeps  the  inner  world  fiom  pole  to  pole : 

Germs  of  immortal  life  begin  to  bud, 
And  deck  the  dreary  desert  of  the  soul. 

VI. 

This  crowns  the  means,  tliat  man  must  still  employ  : — 
Heals  the  deaf  ear  ;  gives  utt'rance  to  the  dumb  ; 

Sight  to  the  blind  :  the  lame  man  leaps  for  joy — 
The  promised  pow'r,  the  Comforter,  is  come ! 


THE  immm  star. 
1- 

Star  !  that,  in  the  loneliness  of  night, 
Beamest  with  a  pure,  unmingled,  light ; 

Star  of  beauty  !  what,  and  whence  art  thou, 
Looking,  in  thy  lustre,  thro'  the  deep 
Vapours  of  dusk  night ;  that  coldly  creep, 

In  passing  dimness,  o'er  thy  fair  face  now  ? 
Art  thou  a  world,  where  blessed  souls  are  gone 
To  brighter  joys,  than  e'er  on  earth  have  shone  ? 

n. 
Star  of  midnight!  whose  untroubled  eye, 
Jiovely  as  hope's  beacon-light  on  high, 
Shincth  thro'  infinity  of  space ; 

Far  beyond  those  regions  of  the  sky, 
Where  the  sisters  of  the  dull  Eartli  trace 

Their  illimitable  paths  on  high  : 


126  tlYMNS    ANt) 

Art  lliou  a  riun  to  tliousand  radiant  splieres, 
Where  happy  spirits  spend  unnuixibercd  years  ? 

III. 
Light  of  th'  azure  heav'ns  !  art  thou  a  sun, 
Round  whose  orb  a  thousand  planets  run  ? 
Roll  a  thousand  planets,  in  their  flight, 

Round  thy  vast  immeasurable  ball ; 
Worlds  whose  loveliness  ne'er  felt  a  blight ; 

Unstained  by  sin,  unhumbled  by  a  fall : 
Where  guilt,  and  grief,  and  pain  were  never  known  ; 
Where  souls  ne'er  sigh,  nor  wounded  spirits  groan  ? 

iv. 
Shairthy  glitt'rilig  round  for  aye  endure, 
Untouched  by  time,  from  ev'ry  change  secure  ? 
If  ihou  smil'st  on  an  eternal  world  ; 

If  thou,  and  thy  countless  bright  compeers, 
Ne'er  from  thrones  of  glory  shall  be  hurled, 

Down  the  deep  descent  of  by-gone  years : 
Tell  me  what  varied,  endless  joys,  are  found. 
In  all  the  wondrous  worlds,  that  you  surround. 

V. 

Tell — oh  !  tell  me,  as  with  angels  voice — 
What  of  bliss  bids  those  glad  worlds  rejoice  : 
What  bright  roses,  what  immortal  flow'rs. 
Freshly-springing  pleasures,  there  have  birth  ; 

What  fountains  gush  in  paradisal  bow'rs. 

Untouched,  untainted  by  the  soil  of  earth : 
Doth  tiiy  great  Master  there  unveil  His  face, 
And  Jesus  walk  with  His  redeemed  race  ? 


SACRED   POEMS.  127 

VI. 

oil  !  it  matters  not  to  mc,'ho\v  blest, 
Shine  those  regions  of  eternal  rest; 
Oh  .'  it  matters  not,  how  goodly  bright 

Thine  elysian  ray  to  me  may  seem  : 
Without  my  Saviour,  all  the  world  were  night ; 

Ten  thousand  suns  were  darkness,  Heav'n  a  dream. 
It  matters  not  to  me,  those  worlds  how  fair ; 
With  Him,  with  Jesus — Heav'n  isev'ry  where  ! 

UYMN  xr. 

I. 

Man's  mighty  works  are  soon  forgot ; 

Systems,  and  sects,  grow  old  and  die  ; 
Eternal  Truth  decayeth  not ;  > 

God's  V/ord,  the  Record  from  on  lii<'-h. 

II. 
God's  Word  stands  forth,  in  form  sublinie ; 

And  smiles  above  the  wreck  of  years : 
And,  victor  of  unconq'ring  Time, 

Bright  witli  immortal  youth  appears. 

ni. 
Bright, beyond  all  of  mortal  birth, 

The  splendour  of  its  glory  shows ; 
Lovely  as  when,  o'er  darkling  Earth, 

The  beauty  of  its  morn  first  rose. 

IV. 

Ages  are  lo.st  from  hist'ry's  cliart; 
Epochs  and  eras  fade  away  : 


128  HYMNS   AND 

Gone,  gone  is  Time's  far  greater  part ; 
And  Earth's  hoar  head  is  silver  grey. 

V. 

Then  let  us  prize  that  light  divine, 
Which  leads  to  deathless  worlds  away. 

Briglit  Sun  of  Glory!  ceaseless  shine, 
And  steep  onr  souls  in  endless  day. 

HYMN  XII. 

I. 
"Ashes  to  ashes  !  dust  to  dust !" 

Will  soon  conclude  our  brief  career; 
Yet  God  shall  be  our  tow'r  and  trust, 

And  strong  defence  when  Death  is  near. 
Oar  faith  is  founded  on  Thy  word, 

Thy  promises  are  sure  and  true : 
We  cast  us  on  Thy  truth,  O  Lord  ! 

What  Thou  hast  promis'd,  sworn  to  Jo. 

n. 

'Ashes  to  ashes !' — vrhcn  earth's  dust 

Lies  cumbrous  on  our  coffin's  lid ; 
Oh  !  may  our  souls  reign  with  the  just, 

Our  precious  life  with  Christ  be  hid  : 
When,  in  the  grave,  each  kindred  clod 

Lies  heavy  on  our  senseless  clay  ; 
Oh  !  may  our  souls  be  blessed  with  God, 

In  realms  of  bright  and  wondrous  day. 

in. 
'Ashes  to  ashes !' — O  ye  great, 
Noble  and  mighty,  proud  and  high ! 


SA.CRED    POEMS.  129 

Like  men  of  poor  and  low  estate, 

Ye  soon  must  suffer,  groan,  and  die : 
Ye  soon  must  in  the  judgment  staad, 

And  hear  the  final, just, decree; 
With  fiendish  gang,  or  saintly  band, 

Be  classed  for  all  eternity. 

rv. 
Tremble  !  ye  proud  ones  of  the  earth, 

Nor  longer  slight  the  Saviour's  call ; 
Your  souls  must  know  a  nobler  birth, 

Born  from  above,  new  creatures  all : 
Old  things  must  pass,  like  morning  dew, 

And  leave  your  souls  all  fresh  and  fair ; 
God's  Spirit  must  your  hearts  renew, 

And  rule,  and  reign,  in  brightness  there. 

HYMN  XIII. 

I. 

Ih  trial,  trouble,  and  temptations, 

Darkness,  danger,  and  distress  ; 
Jesus  !  Healer  of  the  nations ! 

Let  us  trust  Thy  faithfulness. 

II. 

Thou  canst  still  from  all  retrieve  U3, 

When  our  weak  resources  fail ; 
Thou  canst  shelter,  and  relieve  us, 

From  the  windy  storm  and  hail, 
12 


UO  HTMKS  AKB 

in. 
When  rude  doubts  my  soul  liave  shaken, 

And  my  bark  is  on  the  deep  ; 
And  the  giant  waves  awaken, 

From  the  cahnness  of  their  sleep ; 

rv. 
When  the  fiend  of  darkness  utters 

All  his  mighty  malice  feels — 
In  the  soul's  black  midnight,  mutters 
Voice,  like  echoed  thunder  peals ; 

V. 

When  that  voice  around  me  speaketh, 
Like  the  crash  of  thunders  near  ; 

And  my  spirit  wildly  seeketh, 
Rest,  and  refuge  from  its  fear ; 

YI. 

When  stern  horror's  chains  have  bound  me 
Fettered,  as  with  iron  band  : — 

Jesus  breathes  a  calm  around  me, 
Jesus  guides  my  bark  to  land. 

VII. 

Satan !  tho',  in  wrath,  thou  sweepest 
Countless  clouds  of  dust  in  air  ; 

Pow'r  of  evil !  tho'  thou  keepest 

Watch,  and  ward,  to  hurt  my  pray'r; 

VIII. 

Tho'  a  thousand  tempests  darken 
Earth,  and  heav'ns,  and  sea,  and  sky : — 


SACRED   POEMS.  131 

Jesus  to  my  voice  will  hearken ; 
lie  can  hear  my  feeblest  cry, 

IX.  '■" 

Jesus  !  O  Thou  great  Restorer 

Of  our  life,  and  health,  and  peace ! 
Look  upon  each  weak  adorer  ; 

Bid  his  sins  and  sorrows  cease. 

HYMN    XIV. 

I. 
The  mountains  have  brightened,  and  Morning  comes  on  ; 
Dull  Night  at  the  glance  of  her  glory  is  gone  ; 
And  bears,  in  the  far-distant  homes  of  the  west, 
To  the  toiler  repose— to  the  wearied  one,  rest. 

n. 

On  the  mountain-based  rock,  where  the  sky  seems  to  meet 
The  tempest-worn  earth ;  and  the  clouds  at  my  feet 
Sweep  by  me,  sweep  by  me,  on  wing  of  the  gale : — 
I  view  thee — I  bless  thee :  bright  Morning,  all  hail ! 

TU. 

Thy  many-hued  banner  is  waving  o'crhead, 
And  radiance,  thy  first-born  of  beauty,  is  shed 
Above  me,  around  me,  where  Nature  sits  sad : 
E'en  the  bleak  barren  rocks  of  the  desert  look  glad. 

lY. 

O  Nature  '.  thy  wonders  are  goodly,  and  great : 
But  wondrous  o'er  all,  is  the  Pow'r  could  create 


138  HYMNS  AJIS 

Thy  system  stupendous;  earth,  heavens,  and  sea — 
With  their  manifold  marvels : — how  wondrous  is  He '. 

V. 

'    I  see  Him — I  see  Him  !  thro'  darkness,  and  storm, 
My  soul,  in  her  visions,  views  dimly  His  form  : 
in  nature  ;  in  providence,  light  of  His  Word, 
I  catch,  as  thro'  clouds,  but  a  glimpse  of  my  Lord. 

_     .  TI. 

O  Thou,  who  upholdest  all  things  by  Thy  pow'r  ! 
Sole  Saviour — Redeemer !  oh  !  hasten  the  hour ; 
When  Thy  greatness,  Thy  glory,  and  goodness,  shall  b^ 
Like  Morn  in  our  souls  ;  and  all  darkness  shall  flee. 

HYMN   XV. 
I. 

The  storm  is  howling  on  the  deeps — 

How  fearfully  the  billows  break, 
Beneath  those  rude,  and  rocky  steeps ; 

Where  eagles  their  high  dwellings  make  I 

n. 

Yet  not  so  high  the  eagle's  home, 
And  not  high  the  mountain's  brow. 

Is  reared ;  but  that  the  ocean's  foam 

Dashes  above  its  summit  now. 

m. 
Far,  far  above  the  wild  bird's  nest, 

And  far  above  the  mountain's  height ; 
Old  Ocean  lifts  his  giant  crest. 

Shakes  his  hoar  head,  and  locks  of  while 


SACRED    POEMS.  1*3 


IV. 

Never  hath  human  eye  beheld 

The  flood  to  such  wild  fury  wrought : 

The  rocks,  which  long  its  rage  repelled, 
Crumble  beneath  its  blows  to  nought. 

What  wondrous  Pow'r  is  that,  whose  breath 
Hath  swept  the  waters  high  in  air  ? 

What  Pow'r  hath  moved  the  depths  beneath, 
And  laid  the  bed  of  Ocean  bare  ? 

VI. 

What  hand  sustains  the  earth,  when  crash 
The  billows  'gainst  her  crumbled  wall ; 

^Gainst  her  bare  side  the  surges  dash. 
And  mighty  deep  to  deep  doth  call  ? 

VII. 

Nought,  but  omnipotence,  can  wield 
The  bulk  immense  of  waters  wide : 

Nought,  but  Omnipotence,  can  shield 
The  Earth,  from  rush  of  Ocean's  tide. 

viir. 
Tlie  Pow'r,  whose  breath  has  stemmed  tlie  storm, 

And  swoll'n  with  fury  Ocean's  wave — 
His  hand  upholds  Earth's  trembling  form. 

Almighty  to  destroy,  or  save. 

DC. 

Else  had  her  massive  pillars  sank, 

Beneath  the  waste  of  waters  free : 
12* 


134  HYMNS  ANO 

Her  highest  hills  of  Ocean  drank  ; 
And  slept  beneath  one  boundless  sea, 

HYMN  XVI.. 
L. 

Jesus  of  Naz'reth !  lowly  name — 

Who  can  but  love  Thee ;  who  but  fear  t 
Irressenee,  Godhead,  still  the  same ; 

The  hour  is  come— Thy  foes  are  near, 
n. 
By  wolves,  and  demons  of  the  night. 

The  peaceful  garden-walks  are  trod  : 
Bloodhounds,  and  murderers  unite, 

To  hunt  Thee  down,  meek  Lamb  of  God  '; 

rrr. 
Why  stand  their  shrinking  bands  aloof. 

And  yet  forbear  to  seize  the  prey  ? 
E'en  sordid  Judas  feels  reproof ; 

And  turns  his  burning  brow  away. 

ni. 
Jesus  ot  Naz'reth !  well  may  all 

Thy  foes  be  smitten,  gentle  Lamb  ! 
Well  may  they  deeply  prostrate  fall: 

For  Thou  art  God— the  Great  I  AJi. 

V. 

Well  may  their  ranks  be  smitten  down, 
Their  limbs  with  fear  be  fettered  fast  : 

For  Thou  art  God.  Jehovah's  frown 
Stamps  horror  on  their  souls  aghast^ 


SACRED   POEMS. 
VI. 

Woe  be  to  sinners— endless  woe  ! 

Who  with  their  mighty  Maker  strive  : 
When  He,  from  heav'n,  looks  down  below, 

And  frowns  on  men ;  who  then  can  Uve| 

VII. 

Jesus  of  Naz'reth  !  Ola !  the  day. 
The  hour,  is  coming— ripens  fast  : 

When  all  Earth's  sons  shall  own  Thy  sway  y 
All  kings  their  crowns  before  Thee  cast. 

HYMN    XVII^ 
I. 

Life  is  a  wondrous  thing — 
Our  souls  how  wondrous  they  r. 

Man  reigns,  a  mighty  king  : 
Inferior  nature  owns  his  sway. 

n. 
Beasts  of  the  field,  and  birds,. 

The  monsters  of  the  deep». 
Nature's  unnumbered  herds — 

Before  him  bend,  and  crouch  and  creep.. 

m. 
Go,  look  upon  his  form  ; 

His  noble,  Godlike  grace  : 
Nor  class  him  with  the  worm, 

With  beasts  that  perish,  reptiles  ba»e. 


Hi 


13ff  -    ^  HYMNS    AND 

Did  Man  but  range  the  fields, 
With  brutes  unblessed  as  he  ; 

Live  as  free  nature  yields — 
Lie  down,  and  sleep  eternally  ; 

V. 

Did  he  but  live,  and  die, 
Uncheered  by  reason's  ray  ; 

And  soul  that  looks  on  high. 

To  realms  of  bright  and  wondrous  day ; 

Were  Man  but  tree,  or  stone ; 

How  humble  were  his  place  ! 
All  nobler  state  unknown — 

How  low  his  lot,  in  either  case  r 

VII. 

Man  !  thou  art  none  of  these — 
But  glorious,  godlike  thou  ;• 

Blonarch  o'er  land  and  seas. 
Thou  wear'st  a  crown  upon  thy  brow. 

vni. 
Oil !  then,  be  wise — to  all 

Thy  privilege  live  up : 
God  thee  to  Heav'n  doth  call ; 

lle'll  to  o'erflowing  fill  thy  cup. 


SACRED   POEMS. 


HYMN  XVIII. 


I. 


1S7 


OcR  days  are  fleeting,  short,  and  few ; 

Our  earthly  life  will  soon  have  passed  : 
Death,  mighty  reaper  !  works  in  view, 

Ready  to  cut  us  down  at  last. 

n. 

Death,  mighty  reappr  !  grimly  stands, 
And  laughs  at  all  our  futile  cares ; 

Sways  round  his  unrelenting  hands. 

And  cuts  down  all— both  wheat,  and  tares. 

III. 
Widely  upon  Earth's  bosom  spread. 

The  human  harvest  ripens  still : 
Yet,  Lord  !  ere  long,  as  Thou  hast  said, 

Angels  shall  work  Thy  blessed  Will. 

I^^ 

'My  wheat— a  precions,  golden  grain- 
Gather  in  garners  of  the  sky  i 

And  let  the  hurtful  tares  remain, 
In  noisome  heaps,  for  burning,  by.' 

V. 

But  wheat,  or  tares !  and  thus  assigned,. 

To  ev'ry  soul,  its  lot  shall  be  ; 
As  sinner — saint — no  neutral  kind  ; 

Uell— heav  n,  for  all  eternity. 


138  HTMKS  AND 

Oh !  may  we,  at  that  awful  day, 
Be  gathered  in  Tliy  garner,  Lord ! 

Not  casthke  hurtful  tares  away; 

But  blessed  with  Thee,  our  ricli  reward. 

HVMN  XIX, 
I. 

Humble  and  lowly,  meek  and  mild  ; 

Free — free  from  sin,  and  guilt,  and  blame  ; 
To  God  in  mercy  reconciled, 

And  saved  by  faith  in  Jesus'  name  : 

n. 
Humble,  the'  unto  heav'n  allied; 

Lowly,  yet  of  ambition  high  ; 
Of  tow'ring  spirit,  eagle-eyed, 

Which  looks  to  realms  beyond  the  sky : 

III. 
Gentle,  yet  of  a  burning  zeal ; 

Ardent  and  active,  filled  with  fire  ; 
Jealous  for  God,  and  Zion's  weal ; 

And  hating  sin  with  sacred  ire  : 

IV. 

Such  are  the  men,  who  bear  the  cross  ; 

Who  tread  the  path,  which  Jesus  trod  : 
Who  count  all  things  below  but  loss, 

Compared  with  Heav'n,  and  Christ,  and  God. 


SACRED   POEMS.  139 

HYMN  XX. 
I. 

Begone,  unworthy  thoughts!  begone  ; 

Nor  haunt,  and  hurt  my  soul : 
I  must  have  Hope  to  cheer  me  on, 

Tho'  dai-k  my  moments  rolL 
I  must  have  Hope's  bright  helmet  still, 

To  wear  upon  my  head  ; 
With  Faith,  and  Love,  lo  shield  from  ill, 

Like  mail,  around  me  spread. 

II. 
Begone,  injurious  thoughts  !  begone ; 

Hence,  hence,  to  whence  ye  came  ! 
Faith,  Hope,  and  Love  shall  lead  me  on  ; 

All  evil  I  disclaim. 
I  will  not  own  a  sinful  thouoht. 

Nor  yet  an  idle  word  : 
Oh  !  may  my  soul  with  grace  be  fraught. 

Strong — strong  in  Christ  my  Lord. 

HYMN    XXI. 

I. 
Oh  !  vv'hat  a  gracious  God  is  ours. 

Whoso  work  wc  are,  whose  name  we  love  : 
Come  life,  come  death— come  sun,  come  show'rs— 

His  goodness  beams,  below,  above. 

n. 
His  smile  is  life  on  all  around. 

Sheds  richness  on  the  teemintr  soil : 


149  HYMNS   AND 

With  glory,  gladness,  earth  has  crowned; 
And  blessed  with  joy  the  reaper's  toil. 

in. 
The  early,  and  the  latter  rain, 

Have  strewed  with  plenty  all  our  laud ; 
The  fields  are  bright  with  golden  grain : 

Behold  !  and  bless  His  bounteous  hand. 

rv. 
Why  should  we  dread  a  scanty  year, 

When  dryness  locks  the  barren  clod  ? 
Why  do  we  dream  of  famine  near? 

Is  any  thing  too  hard  for  God  ? 

V. 

Why  do  we  droop,  and  weak  despond, 
When  barrel  fails,  and  cruse  runs  dry  ? 

Have  we  no  eye,  to  look  beyond 

Our  dreary  doubts,  to  Him  on  high  ? 

What  tho'  our  store  be  waning  all. 
Our  weak  resources  help  deny  ? 

That  God,  who  sees  a  sparrow  fall. 
Can  yield  us  then  a  rich  supply. 

VII. 

What  tho'  thou  weepest  in  tlie  dust. 
Thy  lot  be  low,  thy  purse  be  poor  ? 

Make  Him  thy  hope,  and  strength,  and  truet- 
Thy  bread  is  safe,  thy  water  sure. 


SACRED   POEMS.  1*1 

VIII. 

Arise !  arise .'  and  deem  no  more 

Thy  God,  regardless  of  thy  fate. 
He  will  recruit  thy  wasted  store, 

And  lift  thee  from  thy  low  estate. 

IX. 

His  wondrous  Love  will  ne'er  wax  cold, 
Wlien  friends  forsake  thy  w-ounded  breast : 

Not  one  good  thing  will  He  withhold, 
From  souls  who  seek  in  Him  their  rest 

X. 

Oh  !  what  a  gracious  God  is  ours, 

Whose  work  we  are,  whose  name  we  bless  ! 

Come  life,  come  death— come  sun,  come  show'rs— 
Let  us  still  trust  His  faithfulness. 

HYMN  XXII. 
I. 

Oh  !  what  a  clog  is  unbelief, 

Wliich  robs  the  soul  of  health,  and  peace  ; 
At  once  our  sin,  our  guilt,  and  grief: 

When— v.'hcn  will  this  tormentor  cease? 

n. 
Oh  !  what  can  cause  this  sick'ning  strife, 

Twixt  care,  and  doubt,  and  scruples  vain  ? 
Have  christian  men  no  nobler  life. 

Than  this  rude  war  with  inward  pain  ? 
13 


142  '"HYMNS  AND 


HI. 

Can  it  be  thus,  with  those  that  seek 
To  serve  the  Lord,  with  true  intent  ? 

Is  mighty  Truth  so  faint,  and  weak, 
As  not  to  force  more  full  assent  j 

J. 

rv. 

Full  Faith — exemplified  in  all 

Its  glorious  fruits  of  act,  and  deed, 

And  godlike  bearing ;  not  the  small, 

Starved  growth,  of  speculative  creed  1 

Faith  should  be  forced,  and  greatly  woij^ 
By  blaze  of  Truth's  meridian  light. 

When  clear,  and  cloudless,  shines  the  sun ; 
Who,  that  has  eyes,  can  deem  it  night  ? 

VI. 

Oft,  when  our  souls  would  clearly  view 
Tiie  sun  of  gospel  light  serene  ; 

Alas  !  to  damp  our  joy  anew, 

Some  envious  cloud  still  comes  tctv>'een. 

vn. 
It  must  be  that  our  earthly  part — 

Of  strange  contrivance,  deep  design, 
(Work,  wondrous  work !  of  matchless  art ;) 

With  thousand  nerves  and  fibres  fine — 

vra. 
Gives  trouble  to  the  soul ;  when  jar 
The  movements  of  its  nice  machine  : 


SACRED    POEMS.  143 

Its  health  when  subtle  causes  mar, 
Disturbance  on  the  mind  is  seen. 

IX. 

It  cannot  be,  that  aught,  but  this, 

Can  gloom  the  soul's  serenest  ray ; 
Can  rob  her  of  her  right  to  bliss. 

Beneath  the  blaze  of  Gospel  day. 

The  holiest  faith  that  man  e'er  blessed— 
When  judgment  totters,  mind  grows  dull — 

Will  fail  to  cheer  the  saddened  breast ; 
And  weakened  pow'rs  will  joy  annul. 

XT. 

These,  and  like  troubles,  with  the  calm 

Repose  of  patience,  should  be  borne : 
Pray'r  to  the  wounded  breast  is  balm ; 

And  Heav'n  will  crown  the  tern  pest- worn. 

HYMN  XXIII. 
I. 

Souls  !  that  bear  the  battle's  dint, 

Warriors  i  striving  with  the  foe — 
Set  j'our  faces  firm  as  flint ; 

Smite  to  death  with  ev'ry  blow. 

II. 
Strive  with  spirit,  soul,  and  mind, 
For  the  mighty  mastery  : 


Hi  HYMNS  AND 

Fling  the  scabbard  far  behind  ; 
'Heav'n,  and  Christ  V  the  watchword  be^ 

m. 
Victory  will  crown  your  pain  ; 

Victory  is  worth  yonr  toil — 
Victory  is  glorious  gain  ; 

Rest  from  battle's  stern  turmoil. 

Rest,  and  triumph's  royal  crown, 
Palms  that  Christian  conq'rors  wear — * 

Endless,  wondrous,  high  renown, 
Wait — your  portion,  lot,  and  share. 

HYMN   XXIT, 

I. 

Gentle,  as  when  Morning  stealeth 
O'ei  the  earth,  ar^d  sea,  and  air — ► 

Is  the  calm  my  spirit  feeleth  ; 

When  I  breathe  my  soul  in  pray'r. 

II. 
Gentle,  as  the  sigh  of  even, 

When  she  treads  the  track  of  day — 
Comes  a  still  small  voice  from  Heav'n  ; 

Wooes,  and  wins  my  soul  away. 

in. 

Earth  !  thy  joys  no  more  deceive  me  ; 
World  !  thy  smiles  are  but  a  cheat ; 


SACRED  POEMS.  145 


Mine  a  bliss,  that  ne'er  can  leave  me  ; 
Pleasures  without  end  are  swee  t ! 

IV. 

As  the  Pilgrim,  lone  and  weary. 
Drooping  in  some  desert  land — 

Views  around  the  prospect  dreary. 
One  wide  waste  of  burning  sand  : 

V. 

But,  at  length — his  eye  discerning 
Some  fair  isle,  of  lovely  green  ; 

All  for  which  his  heart  is  yearning  : 
Far,  and  off — yet  clearly  seen — 

VI. 

Finds  his  fears  were  but  delusion : 
■-    (Lo  !  it  brightens  in  the  sun  ; 
Round  that  isle,  in  blest  effusion, 
Fountains  spring,  and  rivers  run  :) 

vn. 
Then,  his  feet  are  shod  with  fleetness ; 

Thither,  thither  speed  away  : 
In  that  land  of  rest,  and  sweetness. 

He  will  soothe  hira  many  a  day  : — 

vm. 
Thus  a  glance  above  will  cheer  as, 

When  we  strive  and  watch  in  pray  t  ; 
Heav'n — if  ours — is  surely  near  us  : 
Jesus !  Thou  wilt  bring  us  there. 
13* 


143  HYMNS    AND 

THE  STORM. 


"God  help  thee,  traveller." — Kirke  Whits. 


I. 

The  storm  sweeps  by  on  his  car  of  cloud. 

And  drives  o'er  earth  in  wildness ; 
The  wan  moon,  wrapt  in  her  silver  shroud, 

Hath  hid  her  brow  of  mildness ; 
The  stars  are  cloak'd  in  the  fan'ral  pall, 

That  darkness  folds  around  them  ; 
The  volum'd  vapours  their  forms  enthral. 

And  blackness'  chain  hath  bound  them. 

n. 

What  a  night  is  this !  what  a  night  is  this  ! 

When  the  forest's  earth  born  giant, 
Writhes  his  huge  form  o'er  the  precipice. 

And  bonds  like  the  osier  pliant ; 
Till  down  comes  his  crushing  vastncss  near, 

With  a  dying  groan  of  thunder ; 
Earth  quivers,  and  bound.^  at  that  crash,  in  fear  ; 

And  the  stern  vvolf  wakes  in  wonder. 

HI. 

What  a  night  to  ride  the  forest  path, 
Dim,  viewless,  and  strange,  before  us  ; 

While  the  wild  wind  gathers  the  gusts  of  his  wrath, 
And  wreaks  them  in  fury  o'er  us. 

Had  man  a  heart,  and  a  breast,  of  steel — 
Tills  night  were  their  firmness  shaken  ; 


SACKED  POEMS.  14  7 

This  hour  must  that  heart  its  frailty  feel, 
And  fear  in  that  breast  awaken. 

IV. 

Yet  there  is  a  Pow'r  around,  and  nigh, 

That  watchful  ever  abideth  ; 
His  hand  rules  all  in  the  earth,  and  sky  *, 

His  wisdom  the  tempest  guideth : 
Not  a  leaf  can  fall  from  the  forest-tree, 

Wlien  the  storm  its  branches  swayeth — 
Not  an  atom  can  stir  by  land  or  sea, 

But  it  Ilis  bidding  obeyeth. 

V. 

If  He  be  thy  friend,  thou  need'st  not  fear, 

Nor  hurt ,  nor  harm  can  befall  thee ; 
Tho'  death  in  a  thousand  shapes  seem  near, 

And  darkness  and  storm  appal  thee  : 
Tho'  flesh  may  quiver,  and  spirit  quake, 

And  terror  of  sense  bereave  thee — 
His  hand  thy  soul  from  distress  shall  take  ; 

And  from  ruin's  depth  retrieve  thee. 

vt. 
He'll  bring  thee  back  to  thy  homestead  dear, 

Thou  desolate  forest-ranger  ! 
Home  !  Oh  !  how  a  thought  on  thee  can  cheer 

Long  hours  of  travel,  and  danger  ! 
Lone,  weary,  and  dark,  as  I  ride  along, 

While  my  limbs  in  the  chill  rain  welter — 
Sweet  visions  of  thee  around  me  throng, 

And  woo  to  thy  welcome  shelter. 


148  HYMNS   AKD 

VII. 

In  the  world's  ccld  gloom,  one  spot  most  bright , 

Can  the  care-dimmed  eye  discover ; 
There  wait  us  sheUer,  and  warmth,  and  light, 

And  rest  when  our  toil  is  over  : 
Home  !  where  each  charm  of  hope,  and  love. 

The  drooping  soul  allureth  ; 
Sweet  emblem  of  that  blest  state  above. 

Where  joy  for  aye  endurcth. 

Iiy'MN  XXV. 

I. 

•^  Oh  !  be  not  of  an  earLhly  mind  ; 

Look,  look  to  Him  on  high : 
To  God's  good  pleasure  be  resigned, 
Whether  to  live,  or  die. 

II. 

To  seek  for  rest  on  earth  is  vain ; 

'Twill  ne'er  be  found  below  : 
For  those  in  Christ,  to  die  is  gain  ; 

'Tis  rest  from  ev'ry  woe. 

III. 
'Tis  rest  from  sin,  and  sorrow's  smart ; 

From  toil,  and  trouble  too  : 
From  fear,  and  a  deceitful  heart, 

'Tis  rest  for  me,  and  you. 


SACRED  POEMS. 


149 


IV. 

*Tis  rest  from  peril,  pain,  and  grief; 

From  wand'rings  to  and  fro  : 
From  frailty  a  supreme  relief, 

Freedom  from  ev'ry  foe. 

V. 

Rest,  rest  from  warfare,  and  from  strife  ; 

From  earth's  encumbring  clod  : 
'Tis  joy  of  joy,  and  life  of  life ; 

•Tis  Heav'n,  and  Christ,  and  God  ! 


JEHOVAn,  OUR  RIGHTEOUSNESS. 
1. 

Jehovah  is  our  Righteousness, 

Sole  Saviour  of  our  race ; 
Come  saint,  and  sinner,  join  to  bless 

The  fullness,  freeness  of  his  grace : 
Lift— lift  on  high  united  voices, 
And  tell  how  man  in  God  rejoices. 

n. 
God  is  our  glory,  strength  and  aid— 

(No  other  help  than  He)— 
Let's  love,  and  serve  Him,  undismayed  : 

Tiio'  mighty  mountains  in  the  sea 
Be  cast ;  and  Hell's  abysses,  under, 
Would  shake  our  souls  with  Satan's  thunde 


r. 


150  HYMKS   AND 

IK. 

Tiio'  Earth,  and  her  eternal  bars, 
Be  rent  from  her  strong  base ; 

Tho'  iTiOuntahis,  moon,  and  sun,  and  stars, 
Ee  hurled  from  their  appointed  place, 

And  thro'  the  vault  of  space  bo  scattered — 
Ten  thousand  v/orlds  in  ruin  shattered  ; 

IV. 

»      *-       Tho'  the  broad  firmament  should  cast  her 

Stars  like  untimely  fruit : 
We'll  trust,  and  triumph,  in  our  Master — 

The  Branch  of  David's  royal  root ; 
Judah's  unconquereu  Lord  and  Lion — 

The  King  of  Glory,  King  of  Zion. 

v. 
Tlio'  Satan  rushes  like  a  flood. 

To  sweep  from  cv'ry  stay  ; 
Tho'  sun  be  darkness,  moon  be  blood, 

Rocks  melt  witli  fervent  heat  away ; 
Amid  the  ruins  of  creation, 
We'll  shout,  and  sing  the  great  salvation. 

YI. 

We'll  triumph  in  our  King  and  Lord, 
Tho'  now  we're  faint  and  low  : 

Oh  !  let  Him  bare  His  two-edged  sword, 
And  smite  our  ev'ry  fiendish  foe — 

Satan  and  Sin ; — whose  black  rebelling 

Hath  darkened  all  our  earthly  dwelling. 


SACRED   POEMS,  151 

vir. 
Oh  !!et  Him  free  each  heart,  and  soul, 

From  guilt  and  hellish  sin  ; 
Let  light  beam  there  with  blest  control, 

His  Holy  Spirit  rule  within  : 
And  doubt,  and  darkness,  thence  be  driven  ; 
Till  all  be  Love,  and  all  be  Heaven. 


MORNING  MM. 


Saviour  !  v/e  leave  our  bods  of  rest, 

And  bow  before  the  Throne,  in  prayer; 
Of  thy  good  bounty  to  request 

Such  gifts,  as  t'lou  bestowest  there, 

n. 
A  lig'lit  has  blessed  pur  outer  world — 

So  1st  Thy  mercy  beam  within  ; 
Let  doubt,  and  darkness,  thence  be  hurled  ; 

And  set  us  free  from  guilt,  and  sin. 

m. 
Open  our  eyes — each  mind,  and  heart— 

Thalt  wo  may  all  Thy  goodness  see  ; 
Behold  Thee,  as  indeed  Thou  art. 

The  Lord  of  Love,  and  Charity. 

rv. 
Strengthen  our  souls,  that  we  may  run 
The  race  that  is  before  us  set ; 


lija  HYMNS   AND 

That,  when  our  day  of  life  is  done, 
Thy  bounteous  smile  may  bless  us  yet. 

V. 

Oh  !  grant  that  we — like  strong  men  armed — 
Our  citadel,  the  heart,  may  keep ; 
■    By  Sin,  and  Satan,  all  unharmed : 
And  never  slumber,  never  sleep. 

,    '  .       .    VI. 

*  Elcss  us  in  all  we  speak,  and  do; 

•  Bless  us  in  all  our  inward  thought : 

Bless  every  object  we  pursue ; 

Bless  all  the  v/orks  our  hands  have  wrought. 

:       ■  VII. 

In  coming  in,  and  going  out, 
In  rising  up,  and  lying  down — 
'.      Let  Thy  good  blessing  be,  throughout 

Both  day  and  night,  our  joy  and  crown. 


THE  LAW  OF  LOVE, 
I- 

Be  angry,  nor  sin.     As  waters  deep- 
Cool,  and  unruffled,  thy  spirit  keep  : 
As  the  motionless  depth,  which  the  passing  wind 
But  ripples  ;  nor  leaves  a  trace  behind ; 

II. 
As  the  waveless  lymph  of  some  still  lake  ; 
Shrouded  by  hills,  that  no  storm  can  shake  : 


SACRED  POEMS.  163 

In  whose  bosom  of  calmness,  nought  is  seen; 
Save  Heaven's  fair  light,  and  blue  serene. 

Jii. 
In  this  world  of  hate,  and  guilt,  and  wrong, 
Tho'  ruffians,  and  cheats,  may  round  thee  throng  ; 
Tho'  insult,  and  injury,  be  on  thee  piled — • 
To  the  good  unknown,  by  the  bad  reviled : 

IV. 

Tho'  evil  report  upon  thee  lour; 
And  the  guileless  speech  of  a  guardless  hour 
Be  blackened  with  blot  of  the  serpent's  tongue ; 
And  thy  sensitive  breast  with  pain  be  wrung ; 

V.  " 

Tho'  Slander  may  point  her  keenest  shaft ; 
And  Calumny  come  with  her  wormwood  draught, 
And  force  thee  to  take  that  poisoned  cup, 
And  drain  the  dregs  of  her  malice  up:       y      -. 

VI. 

Tho'  Falsehood  may  steal  where  thou  dost  resort, 
With  her  glass  to  multiply,  and  distort ;         ^ 
And  show  thee  most  hideous,  vile,  and  mean — 
Thy  frailties  baser,  thy  leanness  more  lean  : 

VII. 

Yet  even,  and  calm,  be  thy  balanced  soul ; 
Tho'  the  storm  run  high,  and  the  waters  roll — 
Secure  in  the  pow'r  of  the  Lord  be  still : 
Let  His  Love  blaze  higher,  thro'  outward  ill. 


14. 


154  HYMNS  ASP 

VIII. 

Smile  on  the  rage  of  llie  godless  crew ; 
■    And  humbly,  in  peace,  thy  course  pursue ; 
Let  thine  eye,  and  thy  soul,  be  fixed  above; 
-.  .  In  the  calm  of  faith,  and  the  rest  of  love. 

IX. 

Be  angry  at  sin — yet  thy  peace  preserve ; 
And  ne'er  from  the  law  of  kindness  swerve: 
The  sinner  rebuke — and  with  sharpness  too ; 
But  let  Love  still  beam  in  its  brightness  through. 


\' 


NOTES  ON 
THE  EYmm  AND  SACRED  POEMS. 

Page  108.  Hymn  ii. 

— He  that  comes  will  come. 
See  Heb.  x.  37.     Hab.  ii.  3. 

Page  109.     Hymn  ni. 

The  first  four  stanzas  are  a  paraphrase  of  a  beautiful  pas- 
sage in  Job.     See  Ch.  xiv.  7—12,  14,  18,  19. 

Page  115.    Hymn  vm. 

The  hreathintr  of  a  sis:h—' 
Tiie  motion — 
These  two  lines,  (though  obviously  not  copied,)  may  perhaps 
seem  to  be  a  reflection  of  ideas,  which  occur  in  Bickerstetli's 
Hymn  on  Prayer,     Any  such  resemblance,  if  known  to  the  au- 
thor, wQuld  have  been  acknowledged  by  him ;  had  he  ever  pub- 
lished  this  piece.     But  it  is  necessary,  further,  to  state — that 
Dr.   Haskins,  probably,  never  saw  Bickcrsteth's  Hymn  :    but 
had  only  heard  some   passages  from  his  friend  the  Editor- 
Page  116.    H3'mn  ix. 

The  general  idea,  of  the  subject  merely,  of  this  piece,  was  sug- 
gested by  the  chorus  (more  particularly,)  of  a  well  known  hymn  ; 
the  spirit  of  which  our  Author  admired  :  tliougli  its  composition, 
(as  regards  poetry)  did  not  meet  with  his  entire  approbation.  In 
fipreasing  his  own  thoughts  and  feelings,  he  has  observed  the  me- 


156  KOTES. 

tre  of  the  old  hymn  ;  and  he  used  to  sing  his  own,  with  his  wife, 
(and  afterwards  with  his  friend,  the  Editor,)  to  the  favourite  air. 
See  the  preceding  brief  Memoir. 

Page  120.     Deatli's  Last  Victory ;  and 
Page  123.    Death  Conquered. 

See  Rev.  vi.  8.     Isaiah,  xxv.  8.  Hosea,  xiii.  14,     1  Cor. 
XV.  54—57.    Rev.  xx.  13,14. 
Page  124.    "The  Foolishness  of  Preaching." 
See  1  Cor.  i.  18—21. 

Page  128.       Hymn  xii. 
"Ashes  to  ashes  I  dust  to  dust .'" 

See  the  Burial  service  of  the  Prot.  Ep.  Church ;  and  of  the 
Meth.  Ep.  Church.  And  see  Gen.  in.  19.  xvm.  27.  Job 
XXXIV.  15.     Ps.  CIV.  29    Eccl.  in.  20.    xii.  7. 

Page  152.  The  Law  of  Love.  Rtz.  vi.  4.  thy  leanness — See  Isai- 
ah, xxiv.  16. 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 


14* 


O"  TTie  Airs,  ivimed  in  connection  with  several  of  the  follomng 
Songs,  are  those  to  which  they  were  respectively  composed ;  and  to 
which  the  Author  used  to  sing  them,  accompanying  his  voice  with  the 
Spanish  guitar.     For  more  particular  information,  see  the  prece- 


ding Memoir. 


SONQS  OF  SOLITUDE. 

SONG  I. 

Air — Hassan  t^  Leila. 
I. 

• 

ZiON !  o'er  thy  darkling  rest, 
Dawns  the  day  with  silver  crest ; 
And,  where  Jordan  rolls  afar — 
Heralded  by  one  bright  star, 
Morning  wheels  her  golden  car, 
O'er  the  mountains  fleetly. 

II. 
See  !  the  wintry  snows  have  gone 
Far  from  leafy  Lebanon ; 
And,  amid  the  cedar-grove — 
Winged  with  beauty,  breezes  rove, 
Wafting  music  from  above  : 
Answers  Echo  sweetly. 

III. 
Carmel's  verdant  top  appears, 
Gemmed  vv'ith  morning's  sparkling  tears. 
Zion  !  o'er  thy  sacred  wall, 
Golden  floods  of  day-light  fall : 
Darkness,  with  his  dreary  pall, 
Never  more  shall  meet  thee. 


ISO  '  SONGS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

IV. 

Daughters  of  Jerusalem ! 
Bright  with  many  a  starry  gem, 
Broad  His  bamier  waves  on  high  ; 
Flames  the  red  Cross  in  the  sky  : 
Sino-!  for  vour  Redeemer's  nigh — 
Jesus,  hail !  we  greet  thee  ! 

soNa  n. 
AiE — "L^/e  Icl  us  cherish.'' 

I. 

Come  !  thou  glad  morning 
Of  a  blest,  eternal  day  ; 
And  dispel  the  darknsss, 

In  which  we  stray. 
Dreary  is  the  clouded  night ; 
Stars  and  moon  withhold  their  light ; 
Joyless  fleet  the  hours  away  :— 
Hasten,  bpauteous  day  ! 
Come  !  thou  glad  morning,  &c. 

n. 
Night  has  no  pleasure, 

To  the  traveler  far  from  home  ; 
But  llie  thought  is  cheering— 

Morn  soon  will  come. 
When,  along  th'  empurpl'd  sky, 
Glance  the  sparkling  rays  on  high  ; 


SOKGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

Home  will  greet  the  pilgrim  worn  : — 
Haste,  then,  heavenly  morn  ! 
Come  !  thou  glad  morning,  &c. 

ni. 
Is  yon  the  sunbeam, 

Glowing  on  the  mountain's  peak  ? 
Are  yon  the  blushes 

Of  Morning's  check  ? 
Ocean's  wave  in  lustre  burns  ;  ) 

Now  the  .golden  day  returns  : 

Nature's  hour  of  bliss  comes  on  ; 
Grief  is  quickly  gone. 
Come !  thou  glad  morning,  &lc. 

IV. 

Thus,  O  my  spirit ! 

When  life's  brief  gloom  is  past ; 
Shall  a  dawning  cheer  thee, 
Whose  light  shall  last ; 
•  Undecayed  thro'  endless  years — 
Sullied  not  by  sorrow's  tears — 

Cloudless,  pure,  immortal  day : 
Haste  then.  Night,  away ! 
Come  !  thou  glad  morning 
Of  a  blest,  eternal  day  ; 
And  dispel  the  darkness, 
Li  which  we  stray. 


161 


162  SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

•  -  _   '■  SONG    III. 

Air — ''Cumi  o'er  the  sea." 

I. 

*       '  Sun  of  the  dead ! 

Saviour — Oh  !  shed 

Light  within,  till  tlie  gloom  be  fled : 

In  the  cold  shadow, 

Where  sorrow  sils  musing, 
Thy  smiles  of  love 

O'er  the  spirit  difTusing. 

H. 

Dimly  and  dark, 

Over  our  hark. 

Falls  the  rain,  as  the  floods  on  the  Ark. 

Maker,  and  blaster ! 

*  Rescue  from  danger : 
Thou  art  the  help 

Of  the  friendless,  and  stranger. 

■  ,  in.  • 

\^nien  o'er  the  soul 
Deep  waters  roll ; 
Ruler  of  Seas!  their  rage  control. 
Let  not  the  tempest 

Breathe  on  the  billows ; 
Hushed  as  the  wind, 

That  waves  not  the  willows. 


SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE.  163 

IV. 

Mourners,  that  weep 

In  sorrow  deep  ! 

All  your  woes  in  oblivion  steep  : 

For  the  kind  Saviour — 

Tho'  earth  be  dreary — 
Calls  to  his  breast 

The  burdened,  and  weary. 

SONG    IV. 

Air — "  She  came  ai  eve  " 

1. 

When  the  wildering  spells  of  the  night  are  thrown 
O'er  the  tranquil  rest  of  my  slumber  lone  ; 

When  Silence  sleeps  by  the  haunted  rill ; 

Pleased  in  dreams,  1  wander  still. 

II. 
In  delighted  vision,  my  heart  then  roves  * 

To  the  calm  refuge  of  the  home  it  loves  ; 

Heav'n-ward  soaring — stars,  at  my  feet, 

Light  me  on  to  that  mansion  sweet. 

in. 
What  are  ye  around  me,  whose  splendour  seem  a 
Like  the  sun,  in  glory  of  liis  noon-day  beams  ? 

Beings  of  beauty  !  how  bright  ye  shine, 

Robed  in  lustre  of  I^ovc  Divine  ! 


154  SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

rv. 
Oh  !  would  that,  free  from  sin  and  sorrow's  chain, 
I  too,  in  bliss  might  wander  amid  yon  train  ; 
Purer  than  snows  on  the  sunlit  steep : 
Where  souls  ne'er  sigh,  and  hearts  ne'er  weep. 

60NG   V. 

Air— "i'Ji-c  a  Butlcrjly." 

I. 
When  dewy  flowers  are  smiling  beneath, 

Waked  by  the  moon  with  her  silvery  kiss  ; 
Winds  o'er  the  waters  in  ecstasy  breathe, 

Wooing  the  leaflets  that  tremble  in  bliss  : — 
When  sparkling  fountains  their  voices  unite 

With  murmuring  streams,  as  they  whisper  of  love, 
Blending  in  music  v.?ith  sighs  of  the  night — 

Paradise  opens,  around  and  above. 

n. 

When  on  the  mountains,  the  dawn-star  is  bright. 

Blushes  in.beauty  the  Morning  on  high; 
When  the  world  wakes  in  an  ocean  of  light, 

Crimson-hucd  billows  empurpling  the  sky: — 
Soft,  in  the  stillness,  awakens  a  tone, 

Music  of  heart-strings  that  thrill  in  the  breast ; 
Like  phantom-bcil  ringing  in  wilderness  lone, 

Echo  around  me  the  songs  of  the  blessed. 


SOXGS   OF   SOLITUDE.  165 


soNa  VI, 


I. 

Weep  not  for  the  dead, 

Beloved  of  old ; 
Tho'  bright  brows  be  ashes, 

Fond,  faithful  hearts  cold  ; 
Tho'  silent,  in  darkness. 

Their  dwelling  is  made ; 
Mid  clods  of  the  valley 

Their  dust  lies  decayed. 

n. 
Oh  !  checked  be  thy  tears, 

Tho'  bereft  in  an  hour  : 
Earth's  loveliest,  kindest, 

Cut  down  as  a  flower. 
By  hand  of  the  reaper, 

In  beauty  laid  low ; 
Tho'  full  heart  be  breaking, 

And  sad  eyes  o'erflow. 

III. 
Weep  not  for  the  dead. 

Bright,  beauteous,  and  brave; 
Life's  gems,  in  their  glory 

Gone  down  to  the  grave  : 
The  choice  fruits  of  summer, 

The  sweets  of  the  spring ; 
Oh  !  fall'n  in  their  freshness, 

While  storms  waved  their  wing 

15 


16S 


SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 


IV, 

There  swept  a  rude  storm 

From  the  deep,  in  itsflight  j 
Ere  desolate  winter 

Came  on  in  liis  might. 
Its  rude  hand  hath  rifled 

The  garden's  rich  store  ; 
And  bliglited  earth's  Eden, 

Sw'€et.  smiling  no  more. 

.*^     ■•  ••,    "^  '  - 

V.    ■ 
Yet  springeth  a  stem, 

O'er  blackness  beneath, 
Whose 'bads  in  the  desert 

A  wild  fragrance  breathe. 
When  winds'rudely  bluster, 
*  Tho'  trembles  its  form  ; 
Its  loveliness  blooming, 
It  smiles  at  the  storm. 


vr. 
Bedewed  by  the  drops 
«     From  their  fountain  above, 
It  stands  as  a  spirit, 

In  light  and  in  love  ; 
Fit  emblem  of  beauties, 

The  grave  holds  in  trust ; 
Till  hour  of  revival, 
Low  lying  in  dust. 


^ 


SONGS  or   SOLITUDE,  167 

.  \t:i. 
'Tis  Hope  o'er  the  wreck 

Of  withering  years, 
Triumphant  o'er  sorrow, 

Rejoicing  thro'  tears. 
Its  verdant  leaves  whisper 

The  parted  shall  meet : 
Till  then  in  earth's  bosom. 

Their  slumber  is  sweet, 

vin. 
Pale  watcher  !  that  weep'st 

''JMong  the  sad  tombs  forlorn  ; 
The  dim  clouds  are  passing ; 

'Tis  break  of  the  morn. 
Tho'  clods  cannot  cover  *• 

The  dead  from  the  sight, 
Yet,  Mem'ry  thou  mourner  ! 
■^  The  dawn-star  is  briglit. 

And  soon  shaU'all  tears 

Depart  from  each  eye, 
Like  dew  drops  of  morning 

Exhaled  to  the  sky. 
In  home  of  our  Father, 

Bright,  joyous,  and  calm — 
There's  rest  for  the  -weary, 

For  each  woe  a  balm. 


168  SONGS  OF   SOLITUDE, 

SONG    VII. 
Am — Bay  of  Biscay. 

I. 

Tho'  thousand  foes  surround  us. 

And  fears  rise  up  within  ; 
Yet  Love  Divine  hath  found  us— 

We  shall  be  saved  from  sin  : 
The  dismal,  dovvnv.-ard  road, 
Shall  ne'er  by  us  be  trode — 
While  we  may 
Watch  and  pray, 
And  strive  all  the  day. 
In  Jcsu's  name. 

II. 

■  Then  let  our  lives  be  holy. 

To  Satan  ne'er  give  place ; 

.       But  look  to  Jesus  solely. 

Be  saved  by  His  free  grace  : 

Begone  our  doubts  and  fears— 

The  way  to  Heav'n  appears  ; 

There  our  home  lies— 

There  soon  soon  we'll  rise. 

Thro'  yonder  skies, 
-J 

In  Jesu's  name. 

111. 
Come,  let  us  kneel  before  Him, 

And  to  Him  humbly  pray ; 
In  faith,  and  love,  adore  Him, 

And  serve  Him  all  the  day  : 


SONGS    OF    SOLITUDE.  169 

Let  US  sing  praises,  too, 
In  adoration  due  : 

Let's  soar  above, 

On  wings  of  the  Dove  ; 

And  sing  His  Love, 
In  Jcsu's  name. 

SOXG  VIII. 

I. 
Dark  as  tlie  shadow  where  midnight  is  sleeping,    ' 

Sorrow  hath  hung  o'er  my  spirit  its  gloom ; 
Memory  wakes — on  her  pillow  still  weeping, 

Sadly  she  thinks  of  the  loved  in  the  tomb. 
Spirit !  say — why  is  thy  woe  stiil  waking  ? 

Memory  !  wherefore  weepeth  thine  eye  ? 
Oh  !  seest  tiiou  not  that  the  morn  is  breaking  ? 

Dawns  not  a  day  of  glory  on  high  ? 

n. 
Heart !  art  thou  yearning  for  those  that  have  left  thee. 

Changing  for  heav'n  this  dark  valley  of  woe  ? 
Say — of  all  hope  hath  affliction  bereft  thee  ? 

Desolate  mourner !  thy  sadness  forego. 
Oh  !  deem  not  tiiat  the  departed  slumber 

Coldly,  for'aye,  in  thoir  narrow  bed  ; 
Refulgent  on  high,  a  countless  number — 

Like  stars,  and  like  suns,  they  glory  slied. 


15* 


170  SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 

SONG  IX. 

Air. —  The  Bard's  Legacy. 

I. 

Take  this  gloom  from  my  soul  away, 

Jesu  !  Saviour !  the  sinners  friend : 
Beam  on  my  spirit  one  genial  ray, 

And  bid  the  night  of  my  sorrow  end: 
l,et  the  bahn-drops  of  bliss  enlighten 

The  cloud  that  o'ershadows  my  dim  cold  breast ; 
And  rainbow-tints  of  heav'n's  beauty  brighten 

The  tear-dews  falling  where  loved  ones  rest. 

n. 
Around — while  I  wander  in  darkness  drear, 

The  angel  forms  of  the  dead  arise  : 
Whispers  their  voice  like  music  near; 

And  the  lustre  strange  of  their  dazzling  eyes 
Beams  on  my  soul  immortal  glances, 

Like  the  Herald-star  of  Redeeming  Love : 
When  the  Chaldee  Sage  in  his  midnight  trances, 

Hailed  a  new  sun  mid  the  worlds  above. 

-      -     in. 
Fairest  and  best  of  yon  bright  forms  ! 

Say — ra-t  thou  hhe  wl.o  vanisL'd  on  high, 
Leaving  me  lone  in  this  land  of  storms  ? 

'Twas  but  a  vision — she  did  not  die  ! 
Saviour,  Oh!  when  shall  thy  blest  returning 

Scatter  our  dreams  of  desponding  gloom  : 
From  graves,  the  dust  of  thy  siints  inurning. 

Rise  trlorious  suns  in  eternal  bloom  ? 


SOKGS  OF  SOLITUDE.  171 

SONG  X. 

I. 
O  LAND  of  bliss  and  brightness. — 

How  fair  thou  seem'st  to  me  ! 
Arrayed  in  robes  of  whiteness, 

The  angel-band  I  see. 
And  mid  that  band  with  glory  crowned, 

A  beauteous  form  stands  radiantly  ; 
Smiling  in  love  on  all  around  : 

The  Saviour-King — 'tis  He  ! 

II. 
O  land  of  light  resplendent  -' 

When  shall  this  earth  like  thee, 
In  holiness  transcendent, 

From  sin  and  death  be  free  ? 
When  shall  our  guilt,  and  grief  and  woe, 

Be  cast  like  stones  into  the  sea ; 
All  hearts  the  light  of  love  o'erflow  ; 

Jesus  their  portion  bo  ? 

SONG  XI. 

I. 

My  people  Fil  ransom  from  power  of  tl)C  grave  ; 
From  sword  of  the  spoiler  I'll  rescue  and  save  : 
From  death  to  redeem  them,  my  angel  stands  by  ; 
Tho'  thousands  aie  falling,  no  danger  is  nigh. 

H. 

In  the  dark  visioned  valley,  where  black  waters  glide, 
Omnipotence  leads  them — no  evils  betide  : 


172  SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 

A  morning  of  splendour,  through  shade  of  the  tomb, 
Still  haloes  with  glory  the  sepulchre's  gloom. 

III. 
O  death,  thou  destroyer  !  how  brief  was  thy  pow'r  ! 
O  grave  !  thou  art  vanquished,  no  more  lo  devour  ! 
The  sword  of  the  spoiler  is  shivered  and  rent : 
Ilis  arrows  are  broken,  his  quiver  is  spent. 

IV. 

Eternity  dawns  in  its  beauty  above  ; 
My  banner  waves  widely — that  banner  is  Love  : 
Revealings  of  Paradise  bur.st  on  the  sight  ; 
Tiie  sons  of  my  bosom  rejoice  in  its  light. 

SONG  xir. 

I. 

Out  of  the  deeps — where  the  fearful  tone 

Of  the  broken  heart  is  heard  alone  ; 

Where  the  viewless  grief  that  the  body  kills, 

And  the  icy  pang  that  the  spirit  chills, 

Utter  the  voice  of  dread  despair — 

To  thee  I  turn  :  God  !   hear  my  prayer. 

in. 

Where  the  frozen  billows,  in  midnight  dark, 

Crashing,  roar  round  my  fragile  bark ; 

And  the  Storm-fiend  frowns  with  terrific  eye. 

As  the  flickering  stars  go  out  and  die — 

O'erwhelmed  in  ocean's  abysses  lone, 

Go  d!  hear  my  pray'r :  God  !  heed  my  groan. 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE.  173 

ni. 
Out  of  the  fathomless  depths — where  roll 
Waves  of  remorse  o'er  the  troubled  soul ; 
Where  the  tangled  weeds  are  round  my  head  ; 
And  the  last  dim  ray  of  hope  is  fled — 
From  the  dread  abyss  beneath  the  sea, 
God  of  my  life  !  I  look  to  Thee. 

IV. 

If  thou  did'st  mark —  with  unsparing  hand, 
AH  sins  of  men  ;  who  then  could  stand  ? 
Forgiveness  and  mercy  to  Thee  belong  : 
Thy  heart  is  Love ;  Thy  hand  is  strong. 
Therefore,  is  this  mine  evil  day, 
Friend,  Father  and  God  !  to  Thee  I  pray. 

SONG  xiir. 

Am — Believe  rm  if  all  c^c. 

I. 
Behold  !  'tis  the  boauteous  approach  of  the  Morning — 

In  her  pure  golden  calm  she  appears ; 
The  green  garb  of  Earth,  with  its  gem-wrought  adorning, 

Is  bright  with  the  dew  of  her  tears  : 

There's  a  blush  on  the  stream,  and  a  smile  on  the  forest, 

As  they  wake  from  their  stilly  repose  ; 
Wake  thou  too,  my  glad  soul !  and  to  Him  thou  adorest, 

Devote  the  blest  hour  He  bestows. 

n. 
Sweet  Morn !  from  her  dewy  trance,  Nature's  awaking 

To  love,  and  to  bliss,  as  before : 
Yet  how  many  the  hearts  that  with  sorrow  are  breaking, 


174  SONGS  OF  solitud:e. 

Whose  joys  shall  awakfen  no  more  ! 
How  many  the  hearts,  to  which  thy  bright  returning 

Wafts  not  the  soft  whisper  of  peace  ! 
How  many  the  souls,  that  for  loved  ones  still  yearning, 

Breathe  sighs  that  on  earth  ne'er  shall  cease. 

m. 
Fair  emblem  of  that  happy  day,  when  the  spirit, 

That  droops  in   affliction's  cold  gloom, 
With  the  ransomed  of  Jesus,  Heav'n's  light  shall  inherit; 

Oh  !  when  will  that  blest  morninjr  come  ? 
Oil  !  when  will  Ileav'n's  day-spring  of  glory  enlighten 

The  cloud-darkened  depths  of  the  soul ; 
Sorrow's  dim  faded  eye,  at  its  glance,  gladly  brighten  ; 

True  pleasure  its  transports  unroll  ? 

SONG  XIV. 

I.      . 

There's  an  hour  when  the  spirit,  serene  and  unshaken, 

Tho'  its  bed  the  dark  bosom  of  Ocean  may  be — 
All  tranquilly  slumbers,  while  tempests  awaken ; 

Like  wave- wafted  petrel,  that  sleeps  on  the  sea. 
As,  rocked  by  the  billow,  the  sea  bird  reposes, 

When  cradled  on  crest  of  the  dark-rolling  wave ; 
The  desolate  spirit  its  weary  eye  closes, 

Calm'Smiling  in  peace  this  rude  world  never  gava. 

II. 

There's  an  hour  when  the  heart — like  the  dim  flow'r  at  even, 
That  hideth  the  blush  of  its  beauty  in  shade — 

Unnoted  by  mortals,  exhales,  but  for  Heaven, 
The  fragrance  of  feelings  that  never  shall  fade. 


SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 


176 


Those  feelings  be  mine !  may  that  balmy  rest  cover 
This  sorrowful  spirit,  with  mantle  of  peace  : 

My  refuge  be  Jesus,  till  life's  storms  be  over; 
And  then,  on  his  bosom,  all  troubles  shall  cease. 


SONG  sv. 


Mnn  passetli  swiftly  over  the  deep  waters— 
His  home  is  in  the  harbour  of  the  grave. 


I. 
Oh  !  think  not  thus : — there  is  a  home 

Of  bliss  unspeakable. 
Beyond  the  Ocean's  biU'wy  foam — 

Where  ransomed  ones  shall  dwell. 

II. 
Tho'  deep  the  waves,  the  surges  dark, 

Swift  wends  the  Soul  away — 
Over  the  Ocean's  breast,  like  bark — 

To  lands  of  endless  day. 

III. 

Tho'  in  the  grave  Man's  form  may  rest, 
While  soars  his  spirit  high  ; 

That  form,  in  radiant  glory  dressed, 
Sliall  dwell  above  the  sky. 

IV. 

Tho'  death  must  end  our  hopes,  in  this 
Dark  world,  wherein  dwells  woe  : 


1 IG  SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 

Life  hath  no  bounds — eternal  bliss, 
No  limit  to  its  flow. 

V. 

A  peaceful  port,  extends  the  grave — 
Where  wearied  frames  shall  find 

A  refuge,  frcm  the  stormy  wave  ; 
Not  so  the  godlike  mind. 

VI. 

Tlie  heav'n-born  Soul  nor  sleeps,  nor  dies  ; 

But  boundless,  chainless.  free — 
It  wins,  thro'  Christ,  beyond  the  skies, 

Bliss — immortality. 

SOKG  XVI. 

AiK — Aike7i  Aroon. 

I. 
Saviour  !  wc  look  to  Thee, 

From  depth  of  vv"oe  ; 
Do  Thou  oar  Helper  be, 
When  floods  overflow : 
When,  in  his  rage  and  pow'r, 
'  Satan  would  fain  devour ; 
Be  Thou  our  Strength,  and  Tow"r — 
Thine  aid  bestow. 

n. 
When,  thro'  this  wilderness. 
Darkling  we  rove — 
•  Anguish,  and  deep  distress. 
Our  spirits  prove ; 


SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE.  177 

Oh  !  guide  us  lest  we  stray ; 
Smile  all  the  clouds  away — 
Beam  on  our  souls  the  ray 
Of  Ileav'nly  Love. 

ni. 
When — upon  Ocean's  breast 

Tossed  to  and  fro, 
Fain  would  we  be  at  rest, 

From  storms  that  blow — 
From  billows  high  and  vast, 
From  the  infuriate  blast : 
Guide  us,  till  these  be  passed — 
Peace  let  us  know. 

IV. 

When,  on  the  gloomy  brink 

Of  the  sad  stream, 
Pause  we  ;  and  fear  to  sink, 

Lost  to  life's  beam  : 
Put  all  our  fears  to  flight, 
Shed  on  our  souls  the  light, 
That  makes  Death's  darkness  bright —  :. 

Glorious  its  gleam ! 

SONG  XVII. 


Air — Logie  O'Buchan. 


I. 
The  shadows  are  fleeting, 
The  night-clouds  have  flown ; 

16 


jH[j  S&NGS  OT   SOLITUDE. 

The  sun,  as  a  monarch, 

Looks  down  from  his  throne  : 

The  sliadows  are  fleeting, 
The  clouds  are  away — 

Oh  !  why  is  not  sorrow 
As  fleeting  as  they  1 

IT, 

The  IMorn,  in  her  beauty, 
'  .  Comes  forth  as  a  bride. 

In  bloom  of  her  blushes — 

The  sun  at  her  side  : 
She  smiles  over  ocean. 

The  meadows  doth  kiss  ; 
Each  flow'ret  awakens 
Ta  love,  and  to  bliss. 

m. 
Oh  r  when  will  the  dimness — 

The  darkness— be  fled, 
That  hangs  o'er  my  spirit, 
Bewailing  the  dead? 
.     Then,  only,  when  Jesus 
Smiles  down  from  above  ; 
And  lights  all  my  bosom 
With  glory,  and  love. 

'  SONG  xvni. 

I. 

O  Life  !  thou'rt  like  the  stream. 
That  quickly  glides  away  ; 


SONGS  OF  SOLITDDfi.  1?? 

O  Bliss  !  thou'ri  as  the  morning. 

Whose  blushes  will  not  stay. 
The  stream  rolls  swift  its  waters ; 

Morn's  transient  tints  are  gone: 
Thus  fleets  the  bliss,  the  light  of  life — 

Each  hope  that  lured  us  on. 

If, 
Tho'  quick  the  stream  glides  past, 

And  soon  Morn's  blushes  fleet ; 
Yet — is  there  not,  ray  Spirit ! 

A  life,  a  bliss,  mor«  sweet ;        '  - 
A  dawn  of  fairer  beauty — 

A  morn  of  purer  ray  ? 
Soul  I  may  the  light  of  Heav'n  be  thin*, 

Which  ne'er  shall  fade  away  2 

BONG  XIX. 
AlE — "o/5:  in  the  stilly  nighty 

I. 

When  first  young  Morning's  blush. 

Its  sunny  smJle  diffusing. 
Tints  Earth  with  roseate  flush — 

Eastern  skies  suffusing ; 
A  spirit  breathes 
O'er  flow'r-decked  wreaths, 

That  Love,  and  joy,  are  twining ; 
While  Faith's  clear  eye 
Looks  up  on  high, 

To  worlds  where  bliss  is  shining  : 


180  SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE. 

Tlieii,  at  the  morning-tide, 
My  spirit  high  is  soaring  ; 

Heav'n  flings  its  portals  wide. 
To  souls  their  Lord  adoring. 

II. 
Then,,  then  my  bosom  dreams 

No  more  of  clouds  returning  ; 
Heav'n's  light  around  me  beams. 

Love's  pure  flame  is  burning : 
Son'ow's  drear  form, 
And  mist,  and  storm, 

Have  from  my  prospect  fleeted;. 
And  Joy  alone, 
As  on  her  throne. 

Within  my  breast  is  seated ; 
Then,  at  the  mornino--tide. 

My  spirit  high  is  soaring ;. 
Heav'n  flings  its  portals  wide, 

To  souls  their  Lord  adoring. 

in. 
Pray'r,  then,  on  dove-like  wing, 

Its  gentle  pinion  plying — 
Wafts  me  where  angels  sing, 

And  beauty  blooms  undying  ; 
Like  odours  S"ee, 
From  incense-tree, 

With  birds  sweet  music  blending- 
In  that  blest  calm. 
Devotion's  balm, 

Its  healing  pow'r  is  lending : 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE.  181 

Then,  at  the  morning-tide, 

My  spirit  high  is  soaring  ; 
Heav'n  flings  its  portals  wide, 

To  souls  their  Lord  adoring. 

IV. 

On !  On  !  where  gush  the  streams 

Of  Life's  unfailing  fountain ; 
On  !  where  His  beauty  beams 

O'er  Zion's  heav'nly  mountain ; 
I  mount,  I  rove, 
Thro'  realms  of  love ; 

Where  glory's  dawn-light  springing, 
Gilds  with  its  rajr. 
An  endless  day ; 

There  my  glad  soul  is  winging ; 
Thus — still,  at  morning-tide. 

My  spirit  high  is  soaring ; 
Ileav'n  flings  its  portals  wide, 

To  souls  their  Lord  adoring. 

SONQ   XX. 

1. 

Tell  me  not  of  joy,  of  blisses —  / 

Pleasures  on  the  passing  wave — 
In  a  world  so  dark  as  tliis  is  ; 

Beauty,  glory,  bright  and  brave ; 
Pow'r  and  pomp,  and  might^and  splendour, 

Riches,  honour,  wealth  and  fame  : — 


IG* 


182  SOKGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

Lovely  Woman,  true  and  tender. 
To  this  heart  a  dearer  name  ! 

II. 
Woman's  eye — enchantment  glancing', 

Woman's  smile — bewitching,  sweet ; 
Woman's  soul  and  form  entrancing — 

Beauty,  kindness, love,  complete  : 
Worth  far  more  than  worlds  of  treasure, 

Dearest  bliss  that  mortals  know  ! 
What  were  glory,  pomp,  and  pleasure, 

Without  Love  ?  but  gorgeous  woe  I 

m.' 
TfU  not  of  proud  Triumph's  glory, 

Burning  on  the  victor's  brow  ; 
Tell  not  high  Ambition's  story, 

Warrior's  deed,  and  knighthood's  vow  : 
Kingly  crowns,  and  gems  resplendent, 

Sceptral  swa  y,  or  lordly  line — 
Majesty,  and  thrones  transcendent, 

Dazzled  ne'er  this  heart  of  mine. 

IV. 

Deathless  Fame  is  but  a  fable. 

Phantom  of  th'  illudcd  brain; 
Riches,  as  the  sand,  unstable — 

Beauty  withers — splendours  wane  : 
Honour,  pov/'r,  are  evanescent — 

Soon  find  wings,  wherev/ith  to  fly;- 
Chanceful  as  the  I\roon,  whose  crescent 

Leaves  to  darkness  all  the  sky. 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE.  183 

Love's  delights  too  dear  I  deemed  of— 

But,  alas  !  those  blisses  sweet, 
Whose  continuance  I  dreamed  of, 

Sped  away  on  winged  feet. 
Earthly  joys  no  more  deceive  me — 

Transient  joys  that  will  not  stay  : 
Mine  be  bliss  that  ne'er  shall  leave  me. 

Endless  bliss,  more  bright  than  they. 

SONG  2X1.  , 

i. 

When  days  grow  dark — the  skies  o'ercast — 

While  all  within  is  gloom : 
When  scattered  by  th' autumnal  blast, 

Each  flow'r  of  fairest  bloom  ; 
When  fiow'rs  that  smiled,  and  buds  that  breathed^ 

Lie  withering  in  decay ; 
And  hopes,  that  round  the  heart  enwreathed, 

Are  with'ring,  too,  as  they  :    ■_ 

II. 

Wheu  Earth  seems  but  a  wilderness,^ 

Where  dark  the  soul  must  rove  ; 
What  can  dispel  its  dreariness, 

What  can  a  solace  prove  ? 
Not  hopes,  on  which  the  worldling  builds 

His  airy  fabric  slight- 
Not  the  false  beam,  his  gloom  that  gilds,. 
With  vain  illusive  light. 


1S4  SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

ni. 
No  I  when  the  cloudy  day  hath  drawn 

Its  shadow  o'er  the  soul ; 
We  look  for  Heav'n's  ethereal  dawn, 

Suns  of  more  blest  control : 
We  spurn  the  hopes  that  worldlings  cheer ; 

And  not  unjoyful  deem — 
Tho'  skies  be  dark — a  day  is  neai 

Of  cloudless,  endless,  beam. 

SONG    XXII.- 

I. 

As  THE  bird,  on  tireless  wing, 
Over  ocean  journeying 

To  some  calmer  clime  ; 
Thus  the  Soul,  on  pinions  bright, 
Heav'nward  should  direct  its  flight- 
To  the  land  of  love,  and  light, 

'Yond  the  realms  of  time. 

n. 
As  tho  arrow  from  the  string, 
Tipped  with  flame,  aloft  doth  spring ; 

Thus  on  high  the  Soul, 
Winged  with  hallowed  blest,  desire. 
Wrapt  in  love's  unfading  fire. 
Upward — onward — should  aspire 

To  its  heav'nly  goal. 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE.  185 

ni. 
As  the  stream — that,  from  the  hill, 
Rolls  its  clear  pellucid  rill 

Onward,  tow'rd  the  sea ; 
Thus  the  Soul,  from  youth  to  age, 
Pure,  and  peaceful — calm,  and  sage — 
Should  pursue  its  pilgrimage 

Tow'rd  Eternity. 

IV. 

As,  at  morn — the  early  dew. 
To  the  clouds  of  roseate  hue, 

Tranquilly  doth  tend ; 
Slumbers,  there,  on  Morning's  cheek, 
Blusljing  bright  with  crimson  streak  : 
Thus  the  Soul  its  rest  should  seek — 

Heav'nward  thus  ascend. 

SONG  xxiir. 


MY  FATUE?i\S  HOME. 


I. 

My  Father's  Home  !  how  sweet  the  sound, 

When  tempests  sadden  all  the  air — 
Wlien  darkness  veils  the  prospect  round  ! 

Fain  would  my  weary  Soul  be  there. 
Glad  fields  are  smiling  round  that  Home, 

And  bright  streams  cheer  the  sunny  glade: 
And  soft-winged  whispers  bid  me  come ; 

And  friendri,  in  glitl'ring  garb  arrayed. 


186  SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

II. 

My  Father's  Home  !  a  golden  star 

Is  burning  o'er  the  mountain's  creat; 
Its  ray  of  beauty  points  afar, 

To  that  dear  Home,  the  land  of  rest : 
Blazes  a  watch-fire  o'er  the  foam 

Of  Ocean's  intervening  tide  ; 
It  leads  where  lies  my  fother's  Home , 

True  beacon  o'er  the  waters  wide. 

ni. 
That  Star — that  Watch-light,  'yond  th'  abyss- 

Who  feeds  their  flames  with  living  fire  ? 
Who  bade  them  cheer  an  hour  like  this, 

And  wake  for  Home  the  fond  desire  ? 
That  star  is  Hope — that  beacon  Love — 

Faith  views  those  friends  upon  the  shore : 
Bat,  had  we  not  a  Friend  above, 

Their  radiant  forms  were  seen  no  more. 

SONG    XXIV. 

Air — Harp  of  Tara. 

I. 

To  tooK  from  earth — its  fleeting  bliss — 

With  heav'n,  enlightened  eye, 
To  lands  of  fairer  bloom  than  this. 

And  heave  the  wishful  sigh  ; 
To  view  the  fadeless  realms  above, 

And  .Tesus  smiling  there — 
And  breathe  unutterable  love, 

TbiiB— this  is  Prayer, 


SONGS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

n. 
When  the  deep  heart,  at  midnight  hour, 

Vibrates  a  solemn  tone, 
While  thought  awakes  in  trance  of  power ; 

To  bend  before  the  Throne — 
Set  free  from  earth's  entangling  thrall, 

Its  pleasure,  and  its  care, 
To  feel  that  God  is  all  in  all— 

This — this  is  Prayer. 

m. 
When  sorrow,  with  oppressive  weight — 

Affliction,  wrings  the  soul ; 
When  droops  tlie  heart  disconsolate, 

Waves  roar,  and  thunders  roll ; 
When  anguish  racks  th'  encumb'ring  clod, 

While  whispers  fell  despair — 
To  seek  on  high  relief  in  God, 

This — this  is  Prayer. 

IV. 

When  bursts  temptation,  like  a  flood, 

Around  in  all  its  pow'r — 
When  liun-likc,  intent  on  blood, 

Satan  would  fain  devour ; 
When  sinks  the  soul,  the  spirit  faints, 

Weak  flesh  dark  visions  scare — 
To  breathe  aloft  our  sad  complaints, 

Tliis — this  is  Prayer. 


187 


188  SO:«GS  OF   SOLITUDE. 

V. 

When  sunny  scenes  around  us  rise, 

When  summer  flow'rs  smile  near — 
When,  cahn,  on  bright  unclouded  skies 

We  gaze,  while  falls  a  tear; 
When  feels  the  soul  its  guilt  forgiv'n, 

And  sighs  that  all  might  share 
The  beauty,  and  the  bliss  of  heav'n — 

This — this  is  Prayer. 

VI. 

When  lowly  on  a  dying  bed, 

While  life  ebbs  fast  away — 
■      When  earthly  things  are  all  but  fled, 

Ere  dawns  eternal  day  : 
Like  Stephen,  when  the  stones  were  hurled- 

With  Jesu's  suppliant  care, 
Mercy,  implore  for  all  the  world, 

This — this  is  Prayer. 

SOXG    XXV, 


NIGHT. 


I. 

When  the  fire-flies  are  glancinor. 

Like  gems  in  their  flight — 
The  star-jewels  blazing, 

Mid  tresses  of  night ; 


SONGS  OF  SOLITUDE,  189 

When  the  proud  forest  flingeth 

Its  arms  on  the  gale ; 
And  dim  flow'rs — soft  breathing — 

Sweet  odours  exhale ; 

n. 
When  the  gentle  moon  playeth, 

Where  ripples  the  stream — 
The  silver  waves  dancing, 

With  joy,  in  her  beam  ;  - ' 

By  osier-fringed  border, 

Tlie  calm  waters  glide  ; 
And  heav'n,  with  its  azure, 

Their  crystal  hath  dyed ; 

III.  ■  -  ■ 

When  the  voice  of  the  river 

Hath  sunk  to  a  sigh —  .' 

The  rush  of  the  rapids. 

Like  music,  floats  by ; 
When  the  blue  lake,  like  ocean 

Is  smoothed  by  a  spell — 
In  magic  of  moonbeams. 

Its  waters  sleep  well ;       ' 

IV.  ' 

While  fresh  on  its  bosom, 

Dew-spangled  by  night, 
Each  islet  green-tufted 

Looks  lovely  in  light ; 
O'er  its  shadow  of  stillness, 

Bends  beauteous  in  rest — 
LI 


190  SONGS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

Like  bark  moored  in  haven, 
Where  storms  ne'er  molest ; 

■V. 
When  the  deer  he  reposing 

By  fountain,  and  spring — 
The  beaver  lone  sleepeth, 

The  jiy  folds  its  wing; 
The  stately  stag  tosses 

His  antlers  on  high, 
In  slumber  still  dreaminor 

That  morning'  is  ni(:h  : 

VI. 

When  the  pine  lifteth  lordly 

Its  trunk,  as  a  tower — 
In  gloom  of  its  branches, 

The  birds  find  a  bower ; 
7'lie  hunter,  toil-wearied. 

His  couch  spreads  beneath— 
Where  grassy  stems,  twining, 

The  moss-bank  enwreathe  ; 

vn. 
Oh  !  then, — in  her  trances — 
.  My  spirit  soars  high  ; 

Like  falcon — wild  fleeth 
To  homes  in  the  sky  : 
In  that  hour  of  deep  beauty, 

Revealings  are  given ; 
My  soul  teems  with  visions — 
Love,  Glory,  and  Heaven. 


NOTES  ON  THE 

SONGS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

Page  165.  Sonor  yi. 

The  several  poems,  which  the  Editor  has  hitherto  met  with, 
commencing  'Weep  not  for  him  that  dieth,'  (or  in  other  very  sim- 
ilar words.)  are  founded  on  Jer.  xxii.  10  ;  a  passage  which  treats  of 
the  miseries  of  captives.  But  this  Poem  has,  for  its  subject,  the 
affliction  spoken  of  in  Ezek.  xxiv.  16;  and  1  Thes.  iv.   13 — 18. 

Page  168,  Song  vn.  stz.  1.  9. 

And  strive  all  the  day. 

meaning,  in  a  spiritual  sense,  "while  it  is"  (yet)  "day:"  (because) 
"the  night  com.eth,  when  no  man  can  work."  John  ix.  4 ;  and 
XII.  3.5. 

Page  171,  Song  XI.     See  Hosea,  xui.  14.    " 

Page  172.  Song  xii. 

The  first  and  fourth  stanzas,  are  a  paraphrase  of  Ps.  cxxx.  1, 
2,  3.  4,  7, 

Page  188,  Song  XXV. 

In  this  instance,  Dr.  Haskins  not  only  composed  the  poem  to 
a  certain  Air ;  singing,  mentally,  as  he  wrote :  but  also,  (as,  in 
fiome  other  cases,  he  showed  himself  fully  capable,)  modified  the 
Air,  in  a  beautiful  manner,  to  suit  his  own  suljject  and  style.  The 
original  melody  was  that  of  "Oh  !  when  shall  I  see  Jesus  ?"  a 
hymn,  which  he,  and  his  friend,  used  to  sing  together. 


\ 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES, 


17* 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES 


THE  FLOWERS  OF  THE  GRAVK 


I. 
The  wind  breathes  softly  o'er  her  verdant  bed ; 

And  there  the  dim  flow'rs  wake  beneath  the  Moon, 
And  on  the  breeze  of  night  their  fragrance  shed — 

Lovely  as  slie,  and  to  decay  as  soon. 

II.  ,  -  \ 

The  lily — meekest  daughter  of  the  clime, 

The  wind-flower — drooping  her  unsheltered  head. 
The  sweet,  pale  primrose — early  in  its  prime, 

Are  mourning  for  the  beauties  which  are  fled. 

III. 
The  vi'let — blue  as  tint  of  maiden's  eye. 

When  its  glance  glistens  thro'  affection's  tear  j 
The  hyacinth — with  bells  of  azure  dye. 

Shedding  sweet  melody  in  Fancy's  ear  : 

IV. 

Like  angels — o'er  the  consecrated  clay, 

They  bend  in  beauty,  while  their  bright  eyes  weep. 
How  holy,  and  how  innocent,  are  they, 

Who,  as  those  vernal  flowers,  their  pure  souls  keep  I 


196  OCCASIONAL     PIECES. 

TO   MY  HEART. 


I. 
Go  to  the  grave,  wherein  thy  loved  one  lieth — 

Go,  my  sad  heart !  and  ponder  for  awhile  ; 
E'en  as  unto  her  nest  the  ring-dove  hieth  : 

Go — and  let  Mem'ry  there  thy  grief  beguile. 

II. 
Hasten,  my  heart !  where  tearful  ilioughts  await  thee, 

Dreams  of  the  blessedness  that  once  was  thine  : 
Oh  !  think — there's  nought  on  Earth,  can  reinstate  thee, 

In  tliat  brief  bliss,  so  transient,  so  divine. 

III. 
No  more — no  more  !  the  light  of  life  hath  parted  : 

Joy  comes  no  more — like  dawn  of  cheerful  day — 
To  gild  the  gloom ;  wherein  the  broken-hearted  ' 

Lie  down,  to  dream  of  bliss  too  bright  to  stay. 

IV. 

Yet  be  it  so  !  this  world  was  made  for  sorrow; 

But  there's  a  land,  beyond  the  silent  tomb ; 
Where  suns,  that  darkly  set,  shall  find  a  morrow — 

Loved  flowers  that  die,  shall  boast  immortal  bloom. 

THE  FAREWELL. 


I. 
Farewell  !  I  turn  me  from  the  sod,  where  sleeps  thy  lifeless 

dust ; 
No  costly  marble  marks  the  spot,  nor  urn,  nor  breathing  bust : 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES.  197 

The  wild  wind  of  the  forest  bids  tlie  long  grass  lonely  wave ; 
And  warm  tears,  from  a  faithful  heart,  are  gushing  o'er  thy  grave. 

n. 
The  sullen  wind  sweeps  rndely,  yet  not  in  anger  by ; 
It  bids  the  branches  mourn  above,  the  light  leaves  whisper  nigh  : 
The  children  of  the  forest  stand,  with  young  and  graceful  form — 
They  have  no  sickness  of  the  heart,  nor  care's  corroding  worm. 

in. 
Farewell !  farewell  to  ashes,  that  slumber  in  the  gloom — 
Mortality's  dim  shadow — dreary  stillness  of  the  tomb  ; 
The  silence,  and  the  mystery,  whence  thought — in  trance   of 

pow'r. 
Visions,  in  dark  ideal  dream,  the  future's  untried  hour. 

IV. 

Oh  !  could  those  tears  revive  thee ;  as  early  dews,  in  spring, 
Recall  the  fairy  flow'rs  to  life,  when  groves  are  blossoming — 
Bid  Nature's  cheek  retrieve  its  tints  of  beauty,  and  of  pride ; 
Not  fruitless  were  the  tears,  that  fall  o'er  one  that  loved  and 
died. 

V. 

Farewell !  again  I  turn  to  the  unfeeling,  thoughtless  crowd — 
An  icy  coldness  at  my  heart,  on  my  dark  soul  a  cloud  : 
Wafted  on  wing  of  time,  that  cloud  may  vanish  and  depart — 
What  pow'r,  what  charm,  can  chase  away  the  coldness  of  the 
heart  ? 

VI. 

Farewell !  I  cease  to  weep  now,  for  Earth's  elysian  flow'rs, 
Gone  with  the  summer-gilding  of  love's  evanescent  hours  : 


i9S  OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 

I  mourn  not  that  my  sun  hath  set  behind  yon  awful  steep  ; 
Where  flattVing  lights  of  life  sink  down,  to  everlasting  sleep. 

til. 
I  mourn  to  think  tliis  bosom  grows  all  passionless,  and  cold  : 
Save  when,  as    now,    sorrow  bids   wake,   emotions    deep,  and 

old: 
1  grieve  to  think  my  spirit  burns  no  more  with  fervour  high — 
But  deadly    damps    oppress  its  wings,   and   chain  it   from    tl-«i 

sky.  .  - 

vin. 
Yet  darkling  as  I  wander,  in  gloom  of  night,  away — 
Slow  seems  to  rise  upon  my  view,  like  herald  of  the  day, 
A    beauteous  star: and  as  it  shines,   in  radiance  o'er   the 

deep, 
A  still,  small  voice,  is  heard  from  Heav'n — 'sad  mourner!  cease 

to  weep.' 

THE  FLOWERS  OF  PARADISE. 


12         It  matters  nothing,  at  what  hour  of  day 
^j£--ii  The  righteous  fall  asleep. — Milman, 


I. 

rs  not  tho'  early — as  dawn's  blushes  on  the  tide, 
Thy  transient  life  of  promise  passed,  thine  earthly  day  hath  died ; 
It  matters  not  tho'  vanishing — as  primal  hues  of  morn, 
Thy  form  of  beauty  fled  away,  and  left  me  thus  forlorn, 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES.  199 


n. 
For  there's  a  land,  where  blossoms  of  this  cold  world  all  revive  ; 
Where,  dipped  in  silver  dews  of  Heav'n,  their  fragrance  is  alive : 
Where  chosen  flowers  of  paradise,  the  fairest  and  the  best, 
Are  culled,  and  sweetly  gathered,  to  tlie  Sivioitr's  sacred  breast  : 

ir. 
And  in  that  land  of  loveliness,  of  radiance  and  delight, 
I  trust  that  thou  art  blooming,  and  thine  ej^e  of  joy  is  bright : 
Brighter  than  when  it  look'd  en  me,  thro'  dimness,  and  thro'  death  ; 
When  that  kind  voice  hailed  fondly,  with  its  all  but  parting  breath. 

IV. 

The  chosen  flow'rs  of  paradise  are  gathered  to  their  rest ; 
And,  angel-like,  they  slumber  on  the  Saviour's  loving  breast : 
Jesus !  thy  hand  h;is  culled  them  hence,  with  Thee  to  shine  on 

high — 
'Twere  madness  then  to  ircurn.  v.hcn  such  are  taken  to  the  sky. 

V. 

Rather  'twere  meet,  with  holy  joy,  to  hail  the  l)appy  hour. 
When  such  are  placed  in  genial  clime  beyond  the  tempest's  pow'r  . 
B  it  bitter  waitings  for  the  dead  our  frailty  oft  bespeak  ; 
The  spirit  nobly  looks  aloft — the  flesh,  alas  !  is  weak. 

vr. 

No  winter's  wind  can  stir  them  now,  with  rude  and  gustful  sway  . 
No  thunder-cloud  can  darken  o'er  their  pure  eihereal  day  : 
No  lig]itning-l)olt  those  tender  flow'rs  of  vernal  bloom  bereaves ; 
And  death  comes  not  to  witlier  all  the  freshness  of  their  leaves. 

VII. 

How  beautiful  tl.e  sleep  of  those,  who,  earilily  travel  past, 
In  the  harbour  of  their  hcav'nly  home  now  gonlly  rest  at  last ! 


200  OCCASIONAL  HECES. 

Who  gently  sleep  in  Jesus,  in  tliat  slumber  calm  and  deep — 
When  the  heart,  the  heart  is  waking ;  and  but  pain,  and  sorrow 
sleep. 

VIII. 

Behold !  their  griefs  and  woes  have   gone,  like  dreary   dreams 

away ; 
And  morning  comes,  the  herald  of  a  blest,  imdying  day ; 
Eternity  beams  glory  on  the  waking  of  the  soul ; 
Sunlike,  immortal,  boundless  years  of  bliss  begin  to  roll. 

IX. 

^lan  o'er  deep  waters  passes  thus  to  regions  far  away, 

His  home  is  not,  upon  this  earih,  in  mansions  of  decay  : 

Ilis  home  is  not  as  some  have  deemed,  in  chambers  of  the  grave ; 

But  in  that  bright,  unchanging  world,  tliro'  Him  who  died  to  save. 

X. 

Farewell !   and  may  my  soul's  best  love  still  crown  thy  memory  ; 
For,  next  unto  the  Saviour's  claim,  that  love  was  but  for  thee  : 
And,  if  to  tread  the  courts  above  to  me  it  may  be  giv'n — 
Oh  !  may  I  meet  thee  once  again,  with  Jesus,  and  in  Heav'n. 

LASTING  LOVE. 


I. 

The  sun  came  forth,  as  a  bridegroom  gay — 
Bright  blazed  on  his  brow  the  crown  of  day  ; 
And  he  kissed  young  earth — his  glowing  bride — 
Who  smiled,  and  blushed,  in  her  beauty's  pride  : 
Her  cheek,  ere  that  modest  grace  went  by, 
Was  touched  with  tints  of  deep  crimsen  dye. 


OCCASIONAL  piEces.  201 

n. 
The  gentle-eyed  jMoon — he  kissed  her  too ; 
Her  wan  brow  blushed,  as  she  quick  withdrew  : 
A  sister's  love,  all  saintly  and  meek, 
Gilded  with  joy  her  departing  cheek ; 
And  th'  enraptured  lovers  were  left  alone, 
Breathing  their  bliss  in  tenderest  tone. 

m. 
Swift  sped  the  hours,  on  that  blessed  morn — 
Bloomed  roses  around  without  a  thorn ; 
Sang  birds  of  beauty  their  nuptial  song ; 
Spake  the  stream  of  love,  as  it  dimpled  along  : 
The  heav'ns  seemed  too  bright,  and  the  skies  too  fair,     * 
For  rude  winds  to  ruffle  the  stillness  there. 

IV. 

But  a  change  came  o'er  that  delicrhted  hour, 

And  the  broad  heav'ns  shook  with  the  tempest's  pow'r ; 

And  there  swept  a  sound  from  the  groaning  trees, 

Like  the  sullen  roar  of  the  storm  swep-tseas  : 

And  a  black  cloud  rose  those  lovers  between, 

And  the  Sun's  glad  eye  was  no  longer  seen. 

V. 

And  the  flow'rs  lay  strewed  on  the  swelt'ring  ground. 
And  the  birds  sang  not ;  but  the  storm,  around, 
Uplifted  its  voice,  with  thunder  blent : 
Nor  longer  the  stream  sweet  music  lent. 
But  rushed  'gainst  the  rocks  with  terrific  roar ; 
And  Earth's  gay  vision  at  once  was  o'er. 

18 


2(^  OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 


n. 


Thus,  mortal— beware !  soon  a  change  may  come — 
Love's  eye  grow  dark,  and  his  voice  wax  dumb  : 
The  thriUing  tone  of  the  bliss-breathed  word, 
The  song  of  the  stream,  the  hymn  of  the  bird, 
The  light,  the  transport,  the  music,  the  flow'rs — 
May  leave  thee  quite  lone,  when  the  tempest  lours. 

YII. 

Yet  deem  not  that  thine  is  a  joyless  fate, 
Tho'  such  desert  thee — or  desolate. 
There  is  beauty  above,  and  light,  and  Miss, 
To  cheer — to  make  glad,  an  hour  like  this; 
There's  a  Sun  in  the  heav'ns,  that  no  clouds  can  hifle 
'Tis  the  Love  of  thy  Lord — the  Crucified. 

VIII. 

Lift  but  unto  Him  thy  tearful  eye. 
When  frail  hopes  vanish,  and  storms  are  nigh  : 
Then  a  glorious  beam  from  the  world  above — 
-  A  sun-steeped  ray  from  the  fount  of  Love, 
Shall  halo  thy  heart,  in  affliction's  night ; 
And  point  thy  path  to  the  realms  of  light. 

IX. 

Earth  !  thou  canst  not  give,  or  take  away, 
The  pow'r  of  that  light— the  bliss  of  that  ray. 
Sorrow  !  wc  burst — we  bound  from  thy  thrall- 
Go  !  weave,  for  Time's  joys,  thy  fun'ral  pall : 
Ours  is  a,  Ijfe,  a  love,  and  a  joy. 
Thy  change  comes  not  near,  nor  thy  frowns  destroy. 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES.  203 

WE  SHALL  BUT  WAKE  TO  LOVE. 


W  E  shall  but  wake  again  to  love, 
When  we  cast  off  the  slumber  deep 

Of  death  ;  whose  trance — the'  dark  it  prove- 
Is  but  a  mode  of  sleep. 

n. 
We  shall  but  sleep,  and  waken  :  when 

Our  final  slumber  passes — we 
Siiall  wake  to  life,  and  joy  again, 

To  love  eternally. 

m. 
If  there  be  bliss  beyond  the  sky, 

If  there  be  happiness  above — 
If  there  be  hope,  or  Ileav'n  on  high  ; 

We  shall  but  wake  to  love. 

IV. 

Aye  !  love  ;  no  false  enthusiast  dream. 

While  myriad  million  agea  roll — 
Eternity's  bright  glories  beam — 

Loves  on  the  Christian's  soul. 


204  OCCASIONAL  HECES. 


TO  MT  OLD,  TKIED,  AND  UNFLrNCHING  FRIEK0, 

HENRY  Bx\LDWIN,  Jun. 


I. 

FniEND  of  my  widowed,  ray  bereaved  hours  I 

Whose  cheerful  coming  fills  mine  eye  with  tears — • 
Pleasant  nnto  my  soul  thy  face  appears. 

As  Morning's  beam  unto  the  drooping  flow'rs; 

When — wet  with  weeping,  and  with  frequent  show'rs — 
They  ope  their  eyelids  to  the  golden  raj", 
That  bids  them  bloom  teneath  the  smile  of  day. 
How  oft-time  hath  the  gloom  dispersed  away, 

WHien  thou  art  near ;  my  Soul  assumed  her  powVs  J 
My  Muse — that  long  in  torpid  trance  had  lain — 
Put  forth  her  strength,  and  breathed  a  thrilling  strain  ! 

Friend  of  my  heart !  I  view  thee  here  again  : 
And  tho'  the  storm  of  life  upon  me  lours — 

Art  thou  not  he,  whom  long  my  heart,  and  brain, 
Throbbed  to  behold  :  whose  social  aspect,  nearj 
Dispelled  the  frown  of  howling  Winter  drear ; 

And  gave  to  summer  hours  a  calm  delight, 

Whose  mem'ry  lives,  while  months,  years,  speed  their  flight. 

11. 
Com3  !  and,  once  more,  let  social  cheerful  talk 

Make  glad  the  day ;  while  Poesy,  the  Queen 

Of  beauteous  thought,  uplifts  her  form  between 

Twin  sons  of  fancy,  in  their  musing  walk. 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES.  205 

Let's  woo  the  rose  upon  her  slender  stalk, 

And  scent  tlie  violet  in  the  shad'wy  vale  ; 

Converse  of  many  a  pleasant,  wondrous  tale  : 

Till  the  broad  Moon — lifting  her  aspect  pale 
Above  the  forest — warn  us  of  the  hour, 
When  wearied  man  should  sleep,  as  doth  the  flow'r. 

Then  home  returning  to  our  peaceful  cot, 
Together  let  us  kneel  to  Him  on  high — 

Asking  His  grace,  to  bless  our  lowly  lot, 

With  those  who  in  our  prayers  are  ne'er  forgot ; 
And  that  we  all  may  meet,  above  the  starry  sky. 

in. 

Oh  !  why  should  we — to  whom  the  hope  is  giv'n, 
The  priceless  hope — that  when  our  earthly  frame 
Can  but  with  kindred  dust  communion  claim, 

Our  souls  shall  soar,  and  live  with  Christ  in  Heav'n — 

Say,  why  should  we,  like  boughs  close-twining,  riv'n 
By  the  impetuous  thunder's  fi'ry  blast — 
Why  should  our  social  leaves,  asunder  cast — 
Be  strewed  upon  the  whirlwind,  thro'  the  vast 

Desert ;  where  dwell  the  forms  of  friendship  severed  : 

Oh  !  in  its  dream,  this  brain  was  ne'er  so  fevered, 
As  not  to  recognise — or,  with  dim  eye, 
Mistake  my  friend  for  foe — when  he  stood  by. 

Th'  imperial  oak  is  oft  by  lightning  shivered  ; 
The  princely  pine  is  oft  in  fragments  strown  : 

Oh  !  be  my  spirit,  in  its  strength,  delivered 

From  friendship's  wreck ;  and  love  for  aye  its  own  I 


18* 


206  OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 

TO  MY  INFANT  DAUGHTER. 

I. 

My  Daughter  ;  as  I  gaze  upon  thy  cheek, 
Mantling  with  roses  red,  my  hopes  arise 
As  from  the  grave  ;  passes  before  mine  eyes — 
With  sorrow  dim,  and,  for  that  I  am  weak, 
Clouded  with  tears— a  dream  of  future  days  : 
In  lovc'iaess  and  light  that  vision  strays 
Before  me,  as  I  wake  at  morning's  hour. 
And  view  thee  smiling  near,  my  forest-flow'r  ! 

Spirit  of  joy  !  tlie  winter  of  my  heart 
Gladdens  thy  glow  ;  as  the  warm  flush  of  spring- 
When  nature's  realffiS,  to  her  voice  echoing, 

Burst  into  life,  into  new  being  start ; 
Thro'  universal  earth,  and  air,  and  sea, 
All  wakeTi;  save  tlie  tomb's  pale  tenantry. 

17. 

As  one  emerging  from  the  dungeon's  gloom — 
Long  pent,  and  pining  for  the  cheerful  day. 
That  thro'  the  bars  above  sends  dcv.n  one  ray, 

To  show  the  darkness  of  that  living  tomb- 
Feels  the  fresh  air  dolicions  round  him  breathe  ; 
Thus  o'er  my  heart,  declined  in  dust  beneath, 

Those  visionary  joys,  reviving,  steal. 
Breathing  a  balm  that  wounded  heart  to  hoil. 
Jkly  Daughter  I  o'er  thy  coach  of  dovvy  rest 

Bending — in  lineaments  of  infant  grace, 
I  mark  the  features  of  a  well  known  face— 
Even  of  her  who  lives  among  the  blest. 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES.  207 

Would  that,  on  earth,  her  eye  that  form  might  see  I 
But  liiish — my  Soul !  such  thoughts  befit  not  thee. 

III. 
Child  of  my  heart !  how  holy  is  thy  claim 

To  the  warm  feelings  fresh  from  nature's  spring  ! 
God  shelter  thee — poor,  smiling,  helpless  tiling 
Without  a  mother!  star  of  purest  flame — 

Affection's  light,  oh  !  let  my  bosom  sliare. 

While  hopes,  in  verdant  beauty,  round  me  cling — 
As  ivy  to  the  tempest-shattered  wall, 
That  firm  in  its  emijrace  forbears  to  fall — 

Love  breathes  for  thee  its  tender,  silent  prayer. 
Upheld  by  hope,  above  the  storm  of  fate, 
To  mo,  oh  .'  be  it  given  to  elevate 

My  soul  aloft  ;  and  shade  to  thee  extend — 
Nurtured  by  dews  of  heav'n — which  oft  descend 
Richest  on  those  who  find  no  earthly  friend. 

WINTER. 


I. 

Change  comes  o'er  all.     Each  flow'r  of  beauty,  dying, 

Withers  upon  Earth's  bosom,  whence  it  springs  ; 
Birds — summer  friends— to  genial  climes  are  hieing  : 

And  the  far  murmur  of  their  rushing  wings 
Sounds  like  an  echo,  to  the  heart  replying. 

When  Sorrow  mournfully  hath  touched  its  strings  ; 
Anil  over  graves,  wherein  tlie  loved  are  lying, 

Whispers  to  Mcm'ry  of  departed  things. 


208  OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 

'Tis  Winter's  reign.     The  hirdy  woolnan  plying 
His  ponderous  axe — aloud  the  welkin  rings ; 

Bounds  the  free  stag,  from  aim  of  hunter  flying, 
And  rapidly  behind  the  forest  flings  : 

The  wolf  stares  wildly,  from  his  cavern  lone, 

And  wonders  where  th'  embow'ring  shades  have  gone. 

11. 
Change  comes  o'er  all.     Eirth's  transient  tints  have  fleeted. 

Like  fairy  frames  upon  life's  morning  stream  ; 
Gone  is  the  glow,  wherewith  kind  summer  greeted 

The  soul  that,  basking,  gladdened  in  its  gleam : 
Stern,  o'er  the  wreck,  terrific  Nature  seated, 

Scowls  at  the  Sun,  that  dares  obtrude  his  beam  ; 
Til'  enchanter  frost  the  river's  marge  hath  meted, 

Lulling  the  waters  in  his  icy  dream. 
Scared  by  dread  Winter's  frown,  the  Sun,  retreated, 

Adown  the  soutliern  slope  directs  his  team  ; 
Dark  mourns  the  forest,  of  its  verdure  cheated  ; 

Naked,  and  desolate,  its  borders  seem  : 
Save  where  the  pines — each  as  a  fun'ral  plume — 
Nod  black  o'er  Eariii,  shrouded  as  for  tlie  tomb. 

HI. 

Yet  weep  not.  Nature  !  tho'  the  grave,  inurning, 

Gives  to  decay  tlie  children  of  thy  breast : 
Hastens  the  hour,  when  summer  sun,  returning, 

Again  shall  visit  thee — a  welcome  wuest. 
Oh  !  beautiful — when  golden  skies  are  burning — 

Shall  be  thy  form,  in  cm'rald  glory  dressed  ; 
And  exquisite  tho  blooms,  for  which  thou'rt  yearning, 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES.  209 

Once  more  shall  waken  from  thoir  wintry  rest. 
Deep  in  the  ground,  beyond  our  eyes'  discerning, 

Sleep  the  young  germs — each  in  its  eartiiy  nest ; 
And  hence  might  human  hopes,  a  lesson  learning, 

Revel,  in  prospect  of  a  future  blessed. 
Tlien  mourn  not,  Man,  offspring  of  Love  Divine  ! 
A  deathless  lot — Eternity,  is  thine. 

THE  CONTRAST. 


1  GAZED  on  Earth — her  beauteous  form  lay  white, 

Wrapped  in  its  shroud — the  cliiU  snow  frozen  deep ; 
Garb  of  the  grave  was  on  her — fun'ral  Night 

Fanned,  with  black  plume,  her  bed  of  breathless  sleep 
I  heard  the  savage  howl  of  winter  sweep. 
With  roar  of  storms,  and  fall  of  forest-tree, 
And  crash  of  boughs,  and  wild  roots — wreathed  free 
Round  the  firm  rocks — uptorn  and  heav'nward  cast, 
As  raged  the  tempest  in  its  fury  past : 

And  Earth  lay  dead  ;  like  those  o'er  whom  we  weep, 
When  the  rent  heart  clings  close  to  life-like  clay, 
Whose  strange  still  look  bidd  Hope  flee  far  away : 
And  Earth  lay  dead.      Oh  !  say,  is  it  not  death, 
When  beauty,  love,  and  joy,  yield  up  expiring  breath  ? 

I  gazed  on  Eartli — her  snowy  shroud  was  gone, 
A  green  garb  flowed  around  her  lovely  form  ; 

Darkness  had  fled,  her  eye  in  lustre  shone ; 

Nor  winter's  howl  was  Jieard,  nor  rush  of  storm, 
Nor  fall  of  forest-tree  :  but  sunlight  warm 


210  OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 

Bathed  in  its  beauteous  glow  tlie  budding  grove, 

Whose  young  fresh  shoots  basked  in  the  beams  above  : 

And  all  was  glad — and  fair  and  hayjpy  things 

Hovered  on  high,  with  radiant,  gilded  wings, 

Dyed  in  the  rainbow  ;  hung  the  bees'  dense  swarm 

Its  living  cloud  aloft ;  the  butterfly 

Revelled  in  sweets,  as  tbo'  it  ne'er  conld  die; 
Earth  lived  again.     Christian  !  beyond  the  tomb, 
Thus,   from   death's   wintry   sleep,  shalt   thou  awake  and 
bloom. 

THE  STARS. 


I. 
The  Stars  come  forth — the  resplendent  Stars, 
Bright  gilding  the  gloom  of  Earth's  dungeon-bars ; 
in  glory  along  the  empyreal  height, 
Each  like  a  sun,  in  the  world  of  night, 
With  calm  eye  watching  the  course  of  Time — 
The  chroniclers  old  of  years  sublime. 

II. 
'Earth's  tribes,  successive,  depart  to  the  tomb  : 
Yet  changeless  ye  shine,  bright  Stars  !  but  for  whom  ? 
The  glory  of  Man  soon  fleets  away  ; 
His  pride,  and  his  beauty — where  are  they  ? 
Shine  ye,  O  Stars !  like  the  torches'  blaze, 
Tliat  lights  the  dead  with  its  fun  tal  ravs  ?' 


OCCASIOXAL   PIECES.  211 

m. 
'Mortal  !  onr  course  was  of  old  on  high, 
And  we  gaze  on  Earth  with  an  unchanged  eye  ; 
And  fast,  and  fleet,  as  we  roll  above — 
That  course  is  timed,  and  measured,  by  Love. 
Yet  we,  e'en  we,  must  from  Heav'n  depart: 
But  thou — what  a  deathless  thing  thou  art !' 

TEARS  FOR  THE  DEAD. 


I. 
Tears  for  the  dead  !     Each  withering  flow'r, 

Droops  low,  in  decline,  its  beauteous  head  ; 
The  willow-branch  weepeth  a  golden  show'r  ; 

And  the  stars  faint  glisten,  tliro'  tears  for  the  dead, 

II. 
The  tempest  hath  rifled  tlie  forest-tree  ; 

Lie  ghastly  its  leaves  on  their  fiuvral  bed  : 
And  mourns  o'er  the  wreck  Mortality; 

And  the  dim  dew  fallcth,  as  tears  for  the  dead. 

III. 
I  saw,  in  her  beauty,  a  fair  young  bride. 

Where  its  gloom  o'er  t!ie  grave  the  dark  yew  shed  ; 
I  asked,  what  sorrow  had  paled  the  pride 

Of  her  cheek:  'twas  answered — Hears  for  the  dead  I' 

IV. 

And  there,  mid  the  tombs,  lo  !  a  lovely  child 
Bent,  where  the  cypress  waved  black  o'crhead  : 


212  OCCASIONAL    PIECES. 

I  sought  why  it  watched  hi  that  desert  wild  ; 
And  Echo  whispered — 'tears  for  the  dead  ! ' 

V. 

Tliere  an  aged  man  on  the  earth  lay  prone  ; 

And  the  silvery  snows  were  around  him  spread  ; 
I  questioned  wliy  tarried  he  there  alone  ; 

And  the  night-wind  murmured — 'tears  for  the  dead  !' 

VI. 

Alas,  for  those  tears  !  their  bitter  flow 

Must  oft  by  mortal  eye  be  shed : 

Till  the  spirit,  on  high,  forgets  all  woe — 
No  more,  for  ever,  weeps  tears  for  the  dead. 

MUSINGS    AT  MIDNIGHT. 


She  left  my  bed  for  the  cold  dismal  grave — 
The  place  of  sculls,  of  darkness,  and  the  worm  ! 
The  long,  long  night— above  whose  sullen  sleep, 
Beams  not  a  ray  of  cheerful  lustre  bright ; 
No  moon,  no  star :  blackness,  and  fun'ral  shade, 
Close  curtaining  the  slumber  of  the  shroud  ! 

Hark  !  with  redoubled  roar,  above  the  deep, 
Tiie  thunder  booms — and  'mong  the  lurid  clouds 
Flames  the  red  bolt ;  the  sleety,  patt'ring  show'r, 
Bounds  on  the  roof:  vrhile  hollow,  howling  gusts, 
Sweep  from  the  sea;  and,  as  they  hasten  by, 
Unearthly  forms  seem  riding  on  the  blast. 
Aloft  the  scared  owl  shrieks.     It  is  a  niffht, 
Wherein  the  dead  might  wake — the  living  die. 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES.  213 

Best  and  beloved  One  !  wilt  iliou  ne'er  awake  ? 
Why  dost  tliou  sleep — when  tempest,  and  the  blast 
Of  thunder,  startle  thus  the  midnight  hour  ? 
Why  dost  ihou  sleep — as  tho'  the  hideous  roar 
Of  tlie  conflicting  elements,  around, 
But  rocked  thy  slumber  ?     AH  the  livelong  day, 
These  eyes  have  wept ;  and  Sorrow  with  my  heart 
Warred  madly — as  the  Ocean  with  the  rock, 
That  sternly  stands,  by  winds  and  waters  worn  : 
Yet  still  my  spirit  wakes.     O  death  !  death  !  death  ! 
How  dread  thy  visitation  ;  when  thou  com'st, 
All  unforeseen,  to  rend  the  loved  away — ■ 
Gaunt  spoiler — with  thy  hollow,  heartless  smile, 
With'ring  our  bliss  I 

Rave  on,  tliou  sullen  storm  ! 
Thoa  thunder  !  with  thy  mountain-shaking  might, 
Roll  on,  redoubling  thy  terrific  roar. 
Ye  winds !  ye  waves  !  that  upon  ocean  vast. 
With  congregated  voices,  shout  on  high 
Your  awful  diapason,  rage  and  howl. 
Night-wand'ring  wolves  !  at  whose  infuriate  yell, 
The  lated  traveler  feels  his  blood  run  cold 
Swell  with  your  cry  the  universal  din. 
She  will  not  wake  !  the  elements  have  nought — 
Nor  Nature,  in  her  agonizing  war — 
Of  powV,  of  terror,  to  awake  the  dead. 

Yet  wiierefore  thus — oh  !  wherefore  thus,  my  sou] ! 
Dost  thou  still  dwell  upon  the  sleep  of  death.' 
If  that  the  spirit,  when  this  life  is  o'er, 
Still  slunibers  on — as  doth  the  senseless  clay— 

19 


214  OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 

A  visionless,  and  an  eternal  sleep ; 

'Tis  wise,  'tis  well,  to  sorrow  for  the  dead. 

But  if  a  morninor,  brig-hter  than  was  seen 

E'er  upon  earth,  awaits  the  ransomed  soul, 

Freed  from  its  clog ;  oh  !  wherefore  should  we  mourn 

For  the  departed  ?  wherefore  should  we  bend, 

In  unavailing  woe,  above  the  bier — 

Clasp  the  insensate  clay — and  deem  the  dead 

Lost,  and  for  ever  ?     'Tis  no  baseless  creed— 

But  firm  as  pillars  of  eternal  truth — 

The  Soul  ascends  to  God  from  wlience  it  came ; 

Man's  mortal  part  alone  lies  in  the  tomb  : 

His  nobler  essence  lives  for  evermore. 

Heav'n  !  load  us  by  Tliy  light :  nor  let  us  stray 
From  the  pure  path,  that  leads  to  endless  day. 

•      .  SORROW'S    VISIOK 


,  * 


I. 
Oh  !  is  tiiere  no  land,  where  the  best,  and  the  fairest, 

Of  Earth's  fading  flowers,  shall  blossom  anew  ; 
Where,  desolate  mourner  !  tli'  affliction  thou  bearest 

Shall  vanish  away,  like  the  morning's  light  dew  ? 

n. 
Oh  !  is  there  no  land,  where  tlie  tears  sadly  streaming. 

From  Sorrow's  dark  fountain,  in  floods  that  ne'er  cease- 
Exhaled  to  the  region  where  Love's  light  is  beaming — 

Shall  halo  the  heart  with  the  rainbow  of  peace  ? 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES.  215 

HI. 

Thou  spirit  of  Sorrow  !  long  days  without  nu'nber, 
I've  drooped,  and  declined,  beneath  thy  sad  control; 

And  dreams  of  the  dead  still  arose  in  the  slumber, 
That  dimly  o'ershadowed  the  eye  of  the  soul. 

IV.  .      ' 

I  dreamed  of  the  dead,  in  their  beauty  and  brightness ; 

Fresh  and  fragrant,  around,  rose  the  scenes  of  my  youth  : 
The  green  fields,  all  studded  with  flow'r-stars  of  whiteness. 

The  garden,  unscathed  by  cold  Winter's  stern  ruth.         , 

V. 

All  fresh  'prang  the  sweet  flow'rs,  in  that  sunny  garden  ; 

Where,  brothers  and  sisters,  we  walked  side  by  side  : 
Oh !    the  soul  may  grow  dark,  and  the  cold    heart  may 
harden ; 

Yet  still  be  those  far  days  fond  Memory's  pride. 

VI. 

The  dead  stood  around  me  :  '  thou  desolate  mourner ! ' 
They  said — or,  in  fancy's  dream,  thus  seemed  to  say — 

'How  lonely  thou'rt  left !  what  lot  can  be  forlorner  ? 
Haste — haste  from  the  land  of  affliction  away  I 

vn. 
'There  are   fields    of  delight,   in   the  world  v.Iiere  we're 
dwelling  ; 
And  rivers  of  pleasure,  all  stainless  and  pure  : 
And  friends  have  we  there,  e'en  Earth's  dearest  excelling  ; 
And  a  kind  Father's  love,  that  for  aye  shall  endure. 


216  OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 

vni. 
'Thou  bleeding,  bereaved  one  !  oh  !  come — and  we'll  gather 
Heav'n's   chaplets,  to  crown  thee   with  wreaths  of  the 
blessed : 
Oh  !  hasten,  and  steep  thee  in  smiles  of  thy  Father ; 
He'll  welcome  thee — give  thee  repose  on  his  breast.' 

IX. 

Twas  past.     O'er  the  surges  of  broad  ocean  ferried, 
In  the  stranger's  far  land  I  had  found  me  a  home  ; 
^      I  stood  o'er  the  grave,  where  my  lost  love  lay  buried  : 
O'er  the  wide-rolling  waters,  for  this  did  I  roam. 

X. 
I  stood  o'er  that  grave — Sorrow's  loud  burst  was  pouring  ; 

And  bitterly  breathed  my  sore  spirit  the  sigh  : 
When — hush  !  on  the  light  v/ind,  glad  music  was  soaring, 

Like  seraph's  sweet  strains,  as  they  warble  on  high. 

XI. 

Twas  the  voice  of  my  love — and  it  sang  in  its  mildness,, 
A  hymn  often  sung  in  the  days  of  her  prime : 

And,  o'er  my  lulled  spirit,  that  strain,  in  its  wildness, 
Came  beauteous,  and  soft,  as  the  anthem's  far  chime. 

xn. 
"Rejoice  !"  was  her  song.     Like  Spring's  early  appearing, 

When  she  smiles  o'er  the  cold  clouds  of  winter  afar — 
Thrilled  those  accents  around  me,  ray  rent  bosom  cheering : 

Hope  again,  o'er  the  troubled  waves,  lifts  her  bright  star. 


OCCASIONAL    PIECES.  217 

THE  CHRISTIAN'S  SOLILOQUY. 


I. 
Mv  frame  is  worn  witli  toil  and  grief; 

This  heart  throbs  faint  and  slow  : 
My  time  upon  this  earth  is  brief ; 

I  soon  must  sink  below. 

n. 
Dark — dark,  within  its  silent  cave — 

This  body  frail  must  lie  ; 
Cold — cold,  within  the  cheerless  grave — 

Shut  up  from  human  eye. 

III. 
Like  ship,  long  tossed  o'er  ocean's  foam, 

Shattered  by  tempest's  breath — 
I'm  near  my  haven,  and  my  home  : 

That  home,  that  Iiaven — death. 

IV. 

What  tho'  this  form  its  home  there  find  ? 

Dwells  there  no  soul  within — 
The  Sun-crowned  monarch  of  the  mind, 

Tliat  claims  v.-ilh  angels  kin  ? 

V. 

Beams  there  no  light  of  heav'nly  birth, 
Thro'  these  dark  prison-bars ; 

That  shall  outlive  the  firm-built  Earth, 
Yon  skies,  with  all  their  stars  ? 

19* 


218  OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 


VI. 

Not  as  enthusiasts  teach,  or  learn, 

Or  poets  fondly  dream — 
I  feel  that  soul  within  me  burn, 

That  light  within  me  beam. 

VII. 

And  firm,  as  stand  th'  eternal  hills, 

Or  pillars  of  the  sky — 
My  faith  is  fi.x;ed  :  that  pow'r  which  thrills 

Within,  shall  soar  on  high; 

VIII. 

(When  sinks  to  dust  tliis  senseless  frame,) 

Shall  soar  to  realms  above  ; 
To  Him,  who  kindled  first  its  flame — 

Its  end,  and  essence — Love. 

'■■■■-  IX. 

Upborne  on  wings  of  Hope,  and  Faith, 

Its  home  of  bliss  I  see  : 
Hasten  thine  arrow,  tardy  Death  ! 

Now — now,  I  would  be  free. 

THE  HOME    OF  REST. 


I. 

Trav'ler  toiling  o'er  the  wild, 

Where  wolves  prowl  and  serpents  hiss! 
From  thy  Father's  home  exiled, 

Would'st  thou  live  on  land  like  this  ? 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES.  219 

Wouldst  Ihou  fix  thy  dwelling  here, 
In  a  land  so  strange,  and  drear  ? 

II. 
Is  thy  home  upon  the  sea , 

Wand'rcr  over  ocean's  breast  ? 
Yield  the  waves  repose  to  thee 

Can  the  rude  storm  rock  to  rest  ? 
Wouldst  thou  build  thy  changeless  home 
On  the  tossing  billow's  foam.? 

III. 
Soldier !  'mid  the  din  of  anna 

Can  thy  spirit  calmly  sleep  ? 
During  battle's  stern  alarms, 

Wouldst  thou  sink  in  slumber  deep? 
Can  sweet  slumber  seal  thine  eyes, 

While  war's  thunders  rend  the  skiea  ? 

IV. 

Trav'ier — voyager,  art  thou 

Soldier,  too — my  weary  heart  ! 
Dar'st  thou  still  such  hopes  avow  ? 

Still  dost  act  such  foolish  part  ? 
Methinks — toil,  storms,  and  warfaro'hcrc, 
Siiould  make  thy  Father's  Home  more  dear. 


220  OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 

PARAPHRASE  OF  PSALM  XLII. 


I. 
E'en  as  the  hunted  hart  desires 

The  water-brook,  with  panting  breath; 
Thus  after  God  my  soul  aspires, 

Weary  with  wand'ring  in  this  vale  of  death. 

II. 
From  paths  of  sin,  which  late  I  trod, 

1  view  my  Father's  home  above : 
Thirsting  for  God — the  living  God — 

My  contrite  spirit  breathes  its  burning  love. 

III. 
Oh  !  why  art  thou  cast  down,  my  Soul  ? 

What  weak  disquietude  is  thine  ? 
Hope  thou  in  God  ;  thy  fears  control : 

His  countenance  shall  yet  upon  thee  shine. 

'        ■'  IV. 

O  God  !  my  heart  is  sinking  low 

Tn  trouble's  overwhelming  wave  : 
Deep  unto  deep,  while  floods  o'erflow, 

Thunders  with  voice  like  echo  from  the  grave. 

V. 

The  billow.s  foam  above  my  head  ; 

The  weeds  are  tangled  round  my  breast : 
Dark  laid  on  Ocean's  oozy  bed, 

Death  draws  his  dismal  shade  o'er  my  unrest. 


OCCASIONAL  PIECES.  221 

« 

VI. 

Yet  will  the  Lord  command  His  love, 

To  help  me  in  affliction's  day  : 
Nor  dreary  will  my  moments  prove  ; 

While  unto  Thee,  God  of  my  life  !  I  pray. 

vn. 
Then  be  no  more  cast  down,  my  Soul ! 

Nor  let  disquietude  oppress : 
Tho'  stormy  waters  round  thee  roll ; 

He  will  relieve,  and  pity  thy  distress. 

VIII. 

Come  life,  come  death,  come  Nature's  doom  ; 

Crumble  thy  pillars,  Earth  !  in  dust : 
Ye  saints,  triumphant  o'er  tlie  tomb, 

In  Him,  tir  unfailing  Rock,  repose  your  trust. 

FEAR. 


I. 
Fear  !  Fear !  in  Man  had  such  passion  place, 

When  from  liis  Maker's  hand  he  came  ? 
Whence  rose  this  blot  of  deep  disgrace. 

And  stamped  the  Soul  with  dread,  and  shame  ? 

II. 
How  came  it,  Man,  of  form  upright — 

Who  nobly  boars  his  brow  on  high — 
E'er  stooped  to  fear;  and  shunned  the  light 

Of  God  his  Lord's  b?nignant  eye  ? 


222  OCCASIONAL   PIECES. 

III. 

Sin — Sin  hath  done  the  Soul  this  wrong  ; 

And  made  Man  coward,  base,  and  low  : 
Clouded  his  spirit  with  a  throng 

Of  ghastly  fears,  and  shame,  and  woe. 

IV. 

Oh  !  let  us  cast  all  fears  away  ; 

Save  that  one  godl}',  filial  fear  ; 
Which  from  our  Father  dreads  to  stray — 

And  trembles  still,  when  sin  is  near. 

-  PARAPHRASE  OF  THE  LORD'S  PRAYER. 


I. 
Father,  who  dwell'st  above  in  Heav'n, 

For  ever  one — the  same  ! 
To  Thee  be  endless  praises  giv'ii ; 

All  hallowed  be  thy  Name  : 
Thy  kingdom  come — the  reign  of  peace, 

When  Satan's  pow'r  shall  fall; 
Eternal  Sabbath  of  release, 

When  Thou'lt  be  all  in  all. 

II. 
Thy  will  be  done,  thro'  Earth's  broad  bound, 

As  angels  do  above  ;  ^ 

And  not  one  rebel  heart  be  found  : 

But  all  be  filled  with  love. 
Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread  ; 

Our  every  want  supply  : 


OCCASIONAL   PIECES.  223 

'Tis  by  Thy  hand  the  flocks  are  fed  ; 
Thou  still'st  the  raven's  cry. 

m. 
As  we  forgive  a]l  human  wrong, 

Do  Thou  our  sins  forgive ; 
To  Thee,  compassion  doth  belong — • 

Like  Thee  then, let  us  live  : 
Oh  !  let  us  not  be  tempted,  Lord, 

'Bove  what  our  strength  can  bear ; 
Some  op'ning  for  escape  afford— 

Thy  grace  still  let  us  share. 

IV. 

Deliver  us  from  evil  still — 

When  Satan's  wrath  doth  lour ; 
Shelter  our  souls  from  all  of  ill, 

And  save  in  trials  hour : 
For  Thine's  the  kingdom,  glory,  pow'r, 

O'er  worlds,  o'er  angels,  men : 
Be  thou  our  refuge,  strength,  and  tow'r, 

Eternally — Amen ! 

PARAPHRASE  OF  PSALM  XXIIL 


I. 
The  Lord  is  my  Sheplierd — no  good  can  I  need ; 
In  green  sunny  pastures  He  makes  me  to  feed  : 
And  by  the  still  stream,  that  no  storms  e'er  molest, 
With  His  great  eye  to  watch  me,  how  calmly  I  rest  I 


224  OCCASIONAL     PIECES. 

ir. 
When  sorrow's  chill  waves  o'er  n^.y  spirit  roll  deep  ; 
He  brings  to  His  bosom,  and  smiles  her  to  sleep : 
And  from  paths  where  she  wandered,  all  simple  and  wild, 
To  His  heme,  and  His  heart.  He  leads  back  His  poor  child. 

HI. 

Tho'  I  walk  thro'  death's  dark-shadowed  valley  obscure  ; 
"     My  Soul  fears  no  evil — her  safety  is  sure  : 

Thou  there  wilt  be  with  me,  my  Father  !  my  Friend  ! 
With  Thy  staff,  rod,  and  comfort,  to  cheer  to  the  end. 

IV. 

In  sight  of  tlie  scorner,  my  table  is  spread  ; 
With  balm  of  rich  oil,  Thou  anointest  my  head  : 
Thou  blessest  my  garner,  my  basket,  and  store  ; 
Thy  bountiful  hand  makes  my  full  cup  run  o'er. 

V. 

Surely  goodness,  and  mercy,  sliall  crown  all  my  days ; 
In  the  house  of  the  Lord  shall  I  still  sing  His  praise  : 
My  spirit  set  freo-^like  the  dove  o'er  the  foam 
Of  the  wide-rolling  deluge. — flies  there  to  its  home. 


NOTES  ON  TH3 

OCCASIONAL  PIECES. 

Pao-e  196.    The  Farewell. 

fyoTE — The  severe  affliction,  and  deep  sorrow,  which  are  the 
subjects — and  were  the  occasion  of  the  composing,  of  so  many  of 
these  Poems — were,  in  no  respect,  creatures  of  imagination  :  but 
were  real,  and  unaffected.  The  Grave  is  that  of  his  lamented 
wife.  But  the  Memoir,  itself,  prefixed  to  these  works,  is  too  brief 
to  allow  an  opportunity  of  doing  justice  to  our  Poet's  feelings. 

Pace  206.  On  account  of  the  concluding  expressions  of  this 
address  to  his  Infant  Daughter ;  a  brief  note,  in  this  place,  may  be 
appropriate. 

It  is  already  shown,  that  she  has  been  bountifully  remembered 
by  the  ever-watchful  Guardian;  to  whom  he  poured  out  his  sup- 
plications in  her  behalf. 

Page  205.     Stz.  iii.  1,10. 

The  Poet,  after  glancing  at  the  various  dangers,  and  circum- 
stances of  life ;  by  which  friends  are  often  separated,  and  some- 
times estranged  ;  alludes  to  the  effects  of  fever,  as  in  bilious  at- 
tacks. The  occasion  of  such  allusion  seems  to  have  been — that 
though  speaking  of  himself,  in  respect  both  to  such  trials  of  life 
and  to  temporary  effects  of  disease,  which  are  common  :  he  had 
nevertheless  in  view  (as  incidentally  shown  in  the  Memoir)  the 
more  severe  experience  of  others,  in  extreme  cases.  And  thus  in 
his  solitude  and  bereavement,  the  sadness  of  his  spirit  led  him — 
with  such  intense  feeling,  and  in  so  high  a  style  of  poetic  imagin- 
ation— to  deprecate  the  occurrence  of  evils  barely  possible. 

20 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


TO 

HIS    BEARLY    BELOVED    SISTER, 

ELIZA, 

THE    FOLLOWING    POEMS 

ARE, 

WITH   THE    FONDEST    FEELINGS 

OF 

AFFECTION,    AND    REGARD, 

INSCRIBED, 

BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


THE  SOLITARY. 


I. 
I  SIT  a  lone,  a  solitary  man, 

Beside  my  hearth  ;  no  friendly  form  is  near, 

Or  relative,  to  fond  affection  dear  : 
The  winter's  eve  contracts  its  narrow  span, 
Night  darkens  round .  the  snows  are  falling  fast ; 

Wolf-like  the  wind  is  howling  at  my  door; 

The  giants  of  the  forest  loudly  roar, 
And  Nature  sickens  at  the  sound  aghast. 
Winter,  and  solitude,  and  night,  combined, 

The  spell  of  solemn  tliought  have  o'er  me  thrown  ; 
And,  in  the  shad'wy  stillness  of  the  mind, 

Vibrates  this  heart  a  not  unearthly  tone. 
TJ.s  well.     O  heav'nly  Father !  let  me  be 
Far  from  the  vvild'ring  world,  but  clo.se  to  Thee. 

II. 

This  is  no  solitude — Behold  !  the  loved 

Come  thronging  round  me,  with  their  starry  eyes  ; 

Smile  on  this  stricken  heart,  in  gentle  guise, 
The  dead,  the  distant,  by  stern  fate  removed. 

20* 


230  MIDNIGHT. 

Death  hath  no  pow'r,  or  place  to  rob  the  mind — 
Strong  in  its  strength,  communion  to  retain 
With  those  whose  earthly  forms  were  sought  in  vain — 

Of  treasures  in  its  inmost  depth  enshrined. 

This  is  no  sohtudo  :  for  God  is  here, 
As  in  all  places  ;  and  will  ne'er  forsake 

His  follower,  devoted  to  His  fear. 
Watcli  o'er  me,  Heav"n  !  whether  I  sleep,  or  wake  : 

Tho'  Earth  be  darkness,  and  its  joys  be  dead  ; 

Sun  of  the  universe !  Thy  beams  of  glory  roandme  shed. 

-  '■"■■■   ■      MIDNIGHT. 


At  the  deep  midnight-hour,  when  not  a  breath 

Is  heard  around,  and  we  are  all  alone  ; 
When  Nature's  realms  are  silent,  as  tho'  death 
Had  made  the  universal  world  his  own  ; 
When  dunnest  darkness  over  earth  is  strown, 
And  stillest  slumbers  o'er  the  spirit  steal : 

'Tis  awful,  at  that  hour,  before  the  throne 
Of  the  Eternal,  Infinite,  to  kneel — 

To  v>-ake,  and  commune  with  our  God  alone. 
Whose  watchful  eye  no  slumbers  ever  seal ; 
To  feel  the  joy  that  contrite  m.ourners  feel, 

When  love  is  burning,  and  their  fears  have  flown — 
To  feel  the  spirit  stirring  to  be  free. 
As  spreads  the  eagle  its  broad  wings  to  See. 


THUNDER   AT    MIDNIGHT.  231 

THUNDER  AT  MIDNIGHT. 


I. 
Hakk  !  'lis  the  thunder's  fearful  tone, 
Like  voices  from  the  world  unknown  ; 
Loud-crashing  oyer  land,  and  sea — 
The  eclio  of  Eternity  ! 

11. 

List !  'tis  the  thunder's  deaf'ninor  roll. 
That,  awfLil,  shakes  the  troubled  soul : 
At  midnight,  from  the  couch  of  sleep, 
Man  starting,  quakes  with  terror  deep. 

HI. 

Fierce  lustre  round  tlie  lightnings  cast ; 
The  monarch  mountain  stands  aghast : 
Around  him,  while  his  strong  heart  quivers. 
The  torrent  rain  descends  in  rivers. 

IV. 

The  forest— like  a  field  in  spring, 
Swept  by  tiie  storm  on  fury's  wing — 
Upon  the  blast,  its  strength  that  shatters, 
The  glory  of  its  beauty  scatters. 

v. 

Contending  with  the  gale,  each  tree 
Stern  battles  for  the  mastery  : 
Jjoud  roars,  in  fury,  at  llie  blast; 
Then  falls  o'erpowercd,  a  giant  vast. 


232  THE    SLEEP   OF    DEATH. 

VI. 

Why  tremblest  thou,  with  panting  breath, 
Weak  man,  the  destined  prey  of  death  ? 
Hast  thou  no  friend,  beyond  the  sky, 
To  shield  thee,  when  his  rage  is  nigh  ? 

'  DO 

Hast  thou  no  friend,  endued  with  pow'r 
To  save  thee  in  the  trying  liour ; 
When  terror's  king,  thy  mortal  foe, 
Couches  his  lance  to  lay  thee  low  ? 

VIII. 

Yes!  thou  must  die.     Dust,  soon  or  late. 
Returns  to  dust — its  final  fate  : 
But  souls  for  Jesus'  sake  forgiven, 
May  smile  at  death  ;  secure  of  heaven. 

THE  SLEEP  OF  DEATH. 


I. 
Long  sleep !  the  slumber  of  tlie  senseless  clay. 

Crumbling  to  dust ;  and  scattered  on  the  bed. 
Where  it  must  lie  till  the  great  Judgment-day. 

Long  sleep  I  when  the  corroding  v/orm  hath  sjied 

Its  loathsome  work  ;  morning  and  ev'ning  shed 
Light — shade — upon  the  Earth,  a  thousand  years  ; 

Still  slumb'ring  on,  with  kindred  dust  o'erspread. 
Death  !  o'er  thy  wilderness,  how  have  the  tears 
Of  centuries  still  rained  I  yet  not  one  bud  appears. 


THE    STING   OF    DEATH.  233 

n. 
Long  sleep!  I've  gazed  upon  the  aspect  wan, 

The  blood-deserled  visage  of  the  dead : 
And  seemed  to  say  that  brow,  whose  hght  was  gone,' 

Those  lipS;  whence   life's  expressiveness  had  fled, 

Those  hollow  cheeks — eyes  that  no  lustre  shed — 
'This  is  the  lot.  th'  inevitable  doom. 

Of  thee — of  all ;  of  sin  the  sentence  dread. 
Rolls  on  the  stream,  the  glory  and  the  bloom 
Of  life,  to  the  abyss — th'  dark,  th'  engulfing  tomb.' 

III. 
Sleep  in  the  dust !  inex'rable  decree. 

The  righteous  doom  of  sin  !  beneath  the  sun. 
None  can  evade  that  lot :  so  let  it  be  ! 

If  that  the  soul,  thro'  Him  who  heav'n  won 

For  guilty  man,  hath  nobler  life  begun 
(When  freed  from  flesh,)  where  the  redeemed  shall  dwell; 

The  slumber  of  the  grave  why  should  we  shun  ? 
This  hath  no  dread  for  souls,  discerning  well 
Atoning  Love ;  whose  pow'r  hath  vanquished  death  and 
hell. 

THE  STING  OF  DEATH. 


I, 

The  sting  of  death  is  Sin.  It  were  no  dread 
To  merely  die;  to  fling  the  fetters  base 

Of  eartli  aside  ;  and,  soaring  from  the  bed — 
Misnamed  of  death — beyond  the  stars  to  trace 


234  THE    STING    Oy    DEATH. 

Our  heav'nward  flight ;  even  to  His  embrace, 
VVlio  formed  the  soul  a  pure,  and  sinless  thing. 

Oh  !  it  were  bliss — if  guilt  did  ne'er  deface 
The  spirit's  loveliness — aloft  to  wing 
Onr  homeward  way,  and  drink  of  life's  eternal  spring. 

n. 
Behold  yon  babe,  that  slumbers  on  the  breast, 

Fresh  from  the  font  baptismal — pure  as  snow  ! 
How  doth  it  smile,  while  hover  o'er  its  rest 

Visions  of  paradise  !  no  shade  of  woe 

Darkens  its  dreams,  unruffled  in  their  flow 
As  gentlest  waters.     Wherefore  doth  it  sleep 

Thus  calmly,  in  those  visions'  golden  glow  ; 
While  coward  Man  unto  his  couch  doth  creep, 
With  ghastly   fear;    and  quake,  with    bodings   dark    and 
deep  ? 

in. 
O  base-eyed  guilt !  how  dost  thou  quail  and  shrink 

From  Heav'n's  all-piercing  glance  !  as  when  at  morn, 
Bursts  the  bright  sun  above  th'  horizon's  brink, 

Flee  the  night-birds  to  caves  and  dens  forlorn  ; 

Thus  shrinks  the  soul  of  primal  beauty  shorn — 
Thus  darkly,  in  the  den  of  shame,  doth  hide 

Its  brow,  tliat  beams  of  truth  no  more  adorn. 
O  horror !  had  not  Heav'n  a  balm  supplied, 
To  heal ;  'twere  well  had  ^lan  ne'er  lived,  or  never  died. 


PESTILENCE.  235 

PESTILENCE. 


Now,  ruthless,  rising  from  lier  cliarnel-bed. 
Contagion,  dark-winged  daughter  of  the  dead, 
Sweeps  as  a  storm  the  l-.ind,  with  baleful  breath  ; 
And  blasts  its  beauty  with  the  blight  of  death. 
Blazes  aloft  the  red,  funereal  star, 
Whose  eye  shoots  plagues  and  terror  from  afar  ; 
And,  beaconing  her  course  above  the  waves, 
Lights,  with  its  torch,  unnumbered  to  their  graves. 

Within  the  city's  walls,  the  sword  she  plies  ; 
The  still  of  night  is  pierced  with  dismal  cries  : 
An  awful  voice  is  heard  ;  groans,  too,  arise. 
Till  Morning  trembles  in  the  sick'ning  skies  ; 
And  shrinking  from  the  view  her  rays  reveal, 
Would  fain  in  ocean's  depth  her  brow  conceal. 
Then  sights  are  seen  :  the  dying  and  the  dead, 
Commingled  round,  a  ghastly  horror  shed. 
Forth  wend  the  buriers  to  their  fearful  trade, 
And  drop  into  the  graves  themselves  have  made. 
Howls  from  the  hill  bespeak  the  wolves  are  nigh  ; 
The  vultures  wheel  in  circling  clouds  on  high  : 
Rush  from  their  forest-dens  the  rav'ning  herd, 
And  not  by  man  alone  is  man  interred. 

Grim  stands, above  the  city's  fallen  pride, 
Pale  Death  ;  and  mocks  at  ruin  spreading  wide  : 
Summons  from  swampy  fens  tlio  lurid  haze  ; 
And  blots  the  sun's  invigorating  rays. 
Dim  as  a  cloud,  the  solar  orb  on  high 
But  ssems  the  ghost  of  him  who  cheers  the  sky ; 


236  DEATH. 

And  when,  at  e'en,  the  Moon  her  crescent  shows  ; 
,  Faded  her  aspect  seems,  and  wan  with  woes  : 
Blue,  livid  damps,  her  waning  form  invest ; 
And  sad  she  sinks  behind  the  mountain's  crest. 

DEATH. 


Death  is  a  solemn  fearful  thing !  the  flight 

Of  the  freed  spirit  into  realms  unknown, 

Untried,  mysterious;  and,  it  may  he,  fraught 

With  sights,  and  sounds,  to  which  the  things  of  Earth 

Have  no  resemblance.     Darkness,  and  the  cloud 

Ne'er  pierced  by  mortal  eye,  o'erhang  that  world. 

And  tho'  in  visions,  oft,  man's  spirit  views 

Strange  sights,  unlike  the  common  course  of  earth  ; 

And  wakes,  and  sleeps ;  and  dreams  that  dream  again, 

That  seems,  in  trance  of  pow'r,  half  to  uplift 

The  curtain  that  futurity  conceals  : 

Yet  this  is  but  the  coinage  of  the  soul, 

Long  pond'ring  what  that  awful  world  may  be, 

'Twill  one  day  view. 

Horror  of  mystery  ! 

Can  nought  disperse  th'  unfathomable  gloom. 

That  hovers  o'er  that  wondrous  world  unknown  ? 

Strantre  thought !  to  leave  this  loved  associate  form. 

Wherein  the  soul  so  long  hath  gladly  dwelt ; 

And  rove  a  disembodied  spirit  forth — 

Eternal  life  beginning  at  the  hour, 

Even  when  earth  seems  all  annihilate  ! 

When  past  the  portals  of  eternity. 

How  feels  the  Soul  ?  what  are  its  functions,  pow'rs  ? 


THOUGHTS  0?T  THE  FAST.  237 

V/hat  shape  doth  the  enfranchised  spirit  wear  ? 
Hath  it  new  senses  unimaginable  ? 
Becomes  it,  when  rc^leased  from  earthly  clay, 
All  life,  perception,  intellect,  ^aiid  po_w'r, 
All  eye,  all  ear,  all  ?!iergy,  all  ihought. 
Feeling,"  and  jndgment,  intuition,  mind  ; 
Sllghty  for  Jsliss  or  wos — t'  enjoy  or  suffer. 
Eternity  of  happiness,  or  pain  ?  ■ 

Vain  quest !  how  idle  'tis — th'  attempt  t'  explore 
What  never  can,  this  side  the  grave,  be  known  ! 
Let  it  sufiice,  while  time  to  us  is  given — ■ 
Probationary  being  here  below — 
In  faith,  and  love,  to  act  the  Chrislian's  part ; 
And  vv'ait  the  dawning  of  a  bri'jhter  Jav — 
Beyond  the  precincts  of  the  gloomy  grave — 
Whose  glory  shall  illuminate  the  Soul, 
Ransomed,  redeemed,  by  Jesu's  priceless  blood  : 
Vv'hen  Death's  dark  mystery  shall  be  unsealed. 
And  to  immortal  ]\Ian  his  endless  state  revealed. 

THOUGHTS  ON"  TPIE  PAST. 


I. 
I  SIT  alone,  and  think  of  other  days ; 
The  loved,  the  lost— the  distant,  and  the  dead. 
Still,  in  its  wand'ring  mood,  my  spirit  roves 
Mid  its  old  haunts — the  long-deparied  scenes 
Of  childhood,  youth — the  blest,  beloved  home, 
Wherein  I  grew  beneath  a  mother's  smile  ; 
Gardens  of  beauty ;  meadows,  where  my  foot 

21 


238  THOUGHTS  Oy  THE  PAST. 

Brushed  from  enamelled  flovv'rs  the  morning  dew  ; 

Valleys  of  verdure,  garlanded  by  groves 

Waving  their  blossoms  o'er  the  limpid  stream, 

That  warped  o'er  silv'ry  sands  its  winding  way  ; 

The  gently-rising  hill,  on  which,  at  morn, 

I  stood,  and  watched  the  ever-playfid  wind 

Sweep  wantonly  above  the  bending  grass  ; 

Wide-rolling  rivers  ;  castles,  grey  and  old, 

O'er  whose  dismantled  towr's,  in  t^yhood  oft 

VentTous  I  climbed,  and  plucked  the  wild  wall-flow'r  : 

These  I  revisit.     As  the  miser  lean. 

With  eager  eye,  still,  at  the  dead  of  night, 

While  others  sleep,  bends  o'er  his  gold  beloved  ; 

Thus  doth  my  Soul  revisit,  in  her  trance 

Of  melancholy  musing,  former  scenes  : 

Still  haunts  my  heart  remembrance  of  tlie  past. 

Q  holy  hours  of  innocence  and  joy, 
Kow  heav'nly,  and  how  beautiful  ye  were  ! 
Haw  passing  lovely  !  as  o'er  yonder  cloud, 
That  hovers  in  the  west,  looks  forth  the  star — 
Night's  herald  ;  o'er  the  dimness  of  my  soid, 
Long  tossed  upon  the  troubled  waves  of  life, 
Brightens  tiie  beam,  the  glory  of  the  past  1 

n. 
Nature!  amid  thy  solitary  scenes 
Of  beauty,  and  of  love — the  budding  groves 
That  smile  in  spring;  the  leafy  labyrinth, 
Casting  cool  shade  in  summer's  noon-tide  hour ; 
Beneath  the  glory  of  th'  autumnal  sky  ; 
By  th«  calm  rill,  or  ocean's  breezy  shore-— 


TO   HIS  BROTHER.  239 

How  would  I  wander,  were  all  pure  within 
As  once  it  was,  enwrapt  in  dreams  divine  ! 

Friends  of  my  childhood,  youth — beloved  ones '. 
Whose  forms,  on  earth,  this  eye  no  more  may  view — 
How  hard  had  been  this  heart,  did  it  not  weep ; 
Thinking  of  olher  days,  when  ye  were  nigh, 
And  all  was  glad  !  how  furtively  hath  Time 
Pilfered  my  pleasures  :  gaunt,  and  grisly  Death, 
His  coadjutor,  filched  my  joys  away  ! 
How  dreary,  desolate  a  lot,  were  ours ; 
If  that,  when  these  all  earthly  ties  had  riv''n, 
Nought  did  remain  to  cheer  the  mourner  on ! 
How  desolate,  to  look  upon  the  graves 
Of  the  departed  ;  and  while  mem'ry  told 
Of  vanished  bliss — ah  !  never  to  return — 
To  know  of  nought  beyond  the  darksome  tomb; 
No  lirighter  world,  wlierelnthe  lovedi  on  eartk 
May  meet  again  :  no  happy,  heav'nly  home, 
To  reunite  the  bands  unloosed  below  1 

Thanks  to  the  Saviour's  blood,  it  is  not  so : 
Friends,  parted  here,  may  hope  to  meet  in  heav'n. 
Oh  !  let  us  so  live,  that,  when  transient  ties 
Are  severed,  we  may  meet  to  part  no  more, 

SONNETS. 


I. 

Brother  !  thy  face  I  view  as  in  a  dream : 
Between  us  rolls  the  separating  tide 
Of  Ocean,  in  his  stern,  imperial  pride, 


THE   LOVED   OF   THE   EARTH. 

And  she — tlie  loved— vvliose  eye  was  as  the  beam 
Of  Paradise  ;  whose  smile  this  heart  could  bless  : 

Where  is  that  form  ?  lifeless,  v/ithin  the  grave  ! 

Eternal  Father  1  Thou,  in  mercy,  save  ^ 
My  soul  from  sonows  that  too  keenly  press  ; 
Fountain  of  ligi.t !  oii !  dissipate  the  gloom, 

That  hovers  o'er  me  v/ith  its  fun'ral  shade  : 
Point  me  the  path  to  worlds  beyond  the  tomb, 
^Wherein  the  loved  ne'er  die,  nor  pleasures  fade. 
Bright  be"  the  beams  of  Heav'n  within  m.y  soul, 
Gildmg  tliC  waves  of  life,  which  darkly  by  me  roll ! 

;    :       ir. 
Loved  ofjlie  earth  !  how  deeply  in  this  heart, 

lyivcs  the  remembrance  of  each  cherished  form  ! 

Years  may  elapse — darkness,  and  cloud,  and  storm, 
Jlay  thicken  round  me— in  its  inmost  part. 
Pictured  in  colours  nought  can  e'er  efface, 

Still  lives  each  lineament ;  and  smiling  cheers 

Tiie  desolation  wrought  by  grief,  and  years. 
As  dawn,  difFusing  round  its  golden  grace. 
Pleasant  those  mem'ries  cheer  afflictions  night : 

Like  morning  on  the  waters,  at  the  hour. 
When  Nature  drinks  the  balm  of  rosy  light ; 

And  the  world  freshens  in  the  sunny  show'r. 
Beloved  of  earth  !  tho'  we  no  more  should  meet, 
Till  the  great  day— the  pictured  past  is  sweet. 


ASPIRATIONS.       TO   THE    WIND.  241 

ASPIRATIONS. 


Oh  !  would  I  hid  the  dove's  bright,  golden  wings, 
To  waft  me  from  this  world  of  sin,  and  care : 
Oh  !  that  to  yonder  heav'n  I  could  repair, 

E'en  as  the  eagle  to  day's  fountain  springs  ! 

From  passion's  strife,  the  dark  imaginings 
Of  unbelief;  and  earth's  unseemly  woe, 
Still  grovelling  in  dust  of  graves  below  ; 

From  feeble  foar — fancy's  unreal  things — 
High  to  th'  eternal  hills  ;  Vv'here,  as  a  river, 

Immortal  pleasure  pours  its  ceaseless  tide  : 

Thro'  Him,  the  merciful,  for  man  that  died, 
I  might  ascend  ;  and  there  abide  for  ever  i 

But  now — my  lot's  oppressiveness  I  feel : 

Yet  haply  this,  e'en  this,  is  for  my  weal. 

TO  THE  WIND. 


L 

Passing,  passing — tempestuous  Wind, 

Leaving  no  track  in  the  hcav'ns  behind. 

Save  the  sullen  clouds,  with  their  mantles  torn  ; 

And  the  dying  Moon,  of  her  lustreshom, 

Sorrowing,  dim,  in  her  dusky  cave  ; 

As  howls  thy  blast  o'er  land,  and  o'er  wave. 

n. 

Passing,  passing — imi)Ctuons  Wind  ! 
Leaving  a  desolate  world  behind  ; 

21* 


242  TO   THE   WIND. 

'Bove  the  horizon''s  mountainous  bar, 
Sublimely  soaring  to  lands  afar  : 
Blast  upon  blast,  and  surge  upon  surge, 
Sweeping  along  to  the  earth's  far  verge. 

III. 
Restless,  ragincf.  terrific  Wind  ! 
Who  can  thy  limbs  with  fetters  bind  ? 
King  of  the  clouds  !  imperious  Storm  ! 
Wliat  pow"r  can  imprison  thy  chainless  form? 
None  but  His,  who  first  bade  thee  roam 
Resistless  o'er  earth,  and  o'er  ocean's  foam. 

IV. 

Comest  thou  from  the  cavern  deep, 
Where  the  giant  gusts  of  the  mountain  sleep  : 
Till,  wakened  by  toss  of  the  tempest's  mane, 
Scour  the  wild  blasts  o'er  hill  and  o'er  plain  ; 
And  their  shout  makes  tremble  both  tow'r  and  tree, 
O'erturning  the  pride  of  the  forest  free  ? 

■^. 
Comest  thou  from  the  chambers  lone, 
'Neath  the  silver  ring  of  the  Arctic  Zone  ; 
Where  the  dome  of  the  North,  in  starry  state, 
O'erhangs  the  hall  where  the  Storms  debate  ? 
Bounds  the  spring  of  thy  meteor-steed 
O'er  the  icy  chasms,  where  the  snow-birds  breed  ? 


TO    THE    WIND.  243 

VI. 

Wendest  thou  to  the  lands  afar, 

Where  t!ie  pahny  groves  of  the  Orient  are  ? 

Or  gather  thy  gales  resistless  breath, 

To  sweep  the  South,  on  errand  of  death  ? 

To  hvn-l  the  sands  thro'  the  desert  air. 

Where  tlie  Simoom  scorches  with  lurid  glare? 

vix. 
Thou  hast  a  voice  :  let  its  accents  say — 
Whither  is  wending  thy  course  away  ? 
Thunders  that  voice,  with  awful  tone — 
'Mortal  !  my  path,  tho'  to  thee  unknown. 
Is  measured,  and  bounded,  by  Him  on  high  : 
He  points  my  wild  wing  where  to  fly.' 

Yin. 
'Tis  fearful  to  stand  on  the  summit  lone. 
Where  the  giant  rock  u]  Kfts  his  throne  ; 
And  gazing  around,  from  that  steep  watch-tow'r, 
Behold  the  tempest  walk  fortii  in  pow'r  : 
Uplifting  the  waves  of  the  rolling  main  ;  •     . 

And  bending  the  forests,  as  golden  grain. 

ix. 

Yet  it  is — oh  !  'tis  a  more  fearful  siglit, 
To  see  Earth  swept  by  a  sterner  blight. 
Its  beauty,  its  joy,  still  overcast ; 
While  Death  rides  along  on  the  fun'ral  blast- 
To  view  sin  spreading  from  shore  to  shore : 
Saviour  !  oh  !  when  will  that  storm  be  o'er  7 


244  TEMPTATION.       THE    RELEASE. 

TEMPTATION. 


Heart  !  be  tliou  firm  ;  ns  adamaiit,  my  mind  : 
My  fiiilh,  unfailing  as  the  massive  rock, 
Tliat  meets,  unmoved,  tempestuons  ocean's  shock. 
I  heartlie  howling  of  the  savage  wind 
Come  from  the  cavern,  where  no  fetters  bind 
lis  blasts,  that  rage  around  in  fv.ry  blind  : 

Storms,  and  the  crash  of  tliunder,  and  the  glare 
Of  evil  eyes,  and  yells  of  Lim  accursed — 
Proud  potentate  1  in  ill,  supreme  and  worst — 

Surround  my  path,  and  threaten  black  despair. 
Spirit  of  Glory  !  guide  me  lest  I  stray; 

Spirit  of  Pow'r  !  Thine  aid  oh  !  let  me  share  : 
Light  of  the  world !  shed  on  my  darkling  way 
Thy  smiles  of  love,  which  make  eternal  day. 

THE  RELEASE. 


I 
I  SAT  amid  the  dungeon's  deepest  gloom, 

Prisoned,  and  pining  for  the  cheerful  day ; 

That  thro'  the  bars  above  sent  down  one  ray, 
To  show  the  darkness  of  that  living  tomb : 
I  thought  of  summer,  with  its  golden  bloom  ; 

Verdure  of  meadows,  and  the  garden's  pride  ! 

And  sunny  rivers,  with  their  silver  tide. 
Reflecting  banks  thatbreatlicd  a  rich  perfume  ; 
Ocean's  blue  waters  decked  with  many  a  sail. 


THE    RELEASE.  215 

Mom's  clieek  of  roses,  dewy  twilight  pale  : 
And,  dearer  far  than  those — the  friends  with  whom 

My  spirit  held,  of  old,  communion  sweet. 
Ealm  of  the  soul !  blest  Love  !  thou  canst  illume 

The  solitude,  whero  parted  ones  ne'er  meet. 

11. 

I  dwelt  witiiin  the  dcnjcon's  darksome  night  ;  * 

The  iron,  with  its  chill  oppressive  weight, 
Link  upon  link,  was  rovmd  rna :  thro'  the  grate, 

Strange  fiendish  forms  grinned  ghastly  with  delight ; 

Mocking  my  misery  in  hellish  spite  ; 

Bowed  the  black  arch  above  me,  stern  and  old, 
And  grim,  with  horror  made  the  blood  run  cold  ; 

And  ever  and  anon,  before  my  sight, 

Shadowy  shapes  waved  each  a  gory  shroud, 

White,  yet  with  crimson  stained,  like  morning's  cloud. 

Thus  fear  appalled  my  heart,  vjith  grievous  might : 
Then  did  I  lift  my  soul  above  the  sky. 

Went  my  weak  pray'r  beyond  th'  empyreal  height — 
'God  !  hear  my  feeble  groan ;  God  I  heed  my  cry.' 

in. 
That  prayer  was  heard.     Tliore  came  an  awful  tone  — 

It  was  not  voice  of  man,  or  beast,  or  bird  ; 

No  tempest  spake,  or  thunder  echo  stirred  ; 
But  a  deep  sullen  sound  like  nature's  groan  : 
And,  as  it  came — roof  and  foundation-stone — 

The  walls  of  thai  dark  den  did  shako,  and  quiver  ; 

Crumbled  its  arch  to  dust ;  light,  as  a  river, 
Streamed  down  in  falling  floods  :  around  were  strown 


246  TO   HEALTH. 

The  links  of  that  my  clmiii,  by  mcvcy  rent ; 

And  sweetly  did  the  air"s  ])ure  element 
Brcatlie  balm,  among  those  ruins  wide  o'erthrown. 

Rending  the  rocks,  the  earthquake  passed  away ; 
Unhurt,  unharmed,  I  rose  ;  my  guards  v;ere  flown  : 

Freely  1  sped,  with  none  my  steps  to  stay. 

Once  more  "ivvas  mine  to  feel  the  freshening  air, 
That,  walking  o'er  the  waters  comes  to  greet 
The  early  wand'rer  with  its  coolness  sweet ;' 

Again  I  roved  thro'  vernal  meadows  fait ; 

Again  the  garden's  flow'ry  bloom  could  share  ; 
And  with  free  foot  brush  off  the  morning  dew  : 
By  the  cahn  rill,  and  ocean's  billows  blue. 

Once  more  'twas  mine  to  roam  released  from  care  ; 
And  friends  were  smiling  near — the  loved  of  old — 
And  thrilled  ray  heart,  their  features  to  behold. 

How  should  I  praise  Thee,  Lord  !  who  bade  despair 
Yield  to  delight,  and  joy,  and  peace,  and  love  ! 

To  Thee  I  send  aloft  my  humble  prayer — 
'Oh  !  for  Thy  mercies,  may  I  grateful  prove  !' 

TO  HEALTH. 


O  THOU  delightful  source  of  hope,  a  ad  joy  ! 

Thou  friend,  to  life,  to  man,  to  happiness  ; 
Fountain  of  pleasures  that  can  never  cloy  ! 

Religion,  balm  for  all  our  woes,  can  bless, 


FREEDOM.  •  247 

Without  thine  aid,  tlie  weak  and  siilT'ring  soul — 

Solace  its  sorrows,  make  affliction  less  : 
With  her  and  thee,  how  hlest  our  moments  roll ! 
How  shall  we  find  thee  ?  Heav'n  that  gift  bestows  ; 

Yet  must  we  use  the  means — a  quiet  mind. 
Toil,  temp'rance,  early  hours,  strict  cleanliness, 
Good  air,  good  diet — neither  more,  nor  less, 

Than  nature  needs  ;  employment,  of  such  kind 
As  pleases,  and  which  diities  still  impose  : 
How  much  tlicse  do  tow'rds  health,  he  that  has   tried  them 
knows. 

FREEDOM, 


I. 
f  CAX.NOT  live  in  crowded  city — pent, 

Like  eagle  in  its  cage  :  my  soul  repined 

Ne'er  at  its  lot,  in  mortal  thrall  confined  ; 
While  Earth  was  free,  and  the  great  element 

Of  air  flowed  fully  round.     E'en  as  the  wind, 
Walking  upo;i  the  mountain,  I  would  roam 
Bondless  an  1  fre3  ;  mr  will  I  tiv  my  ho.no 

In  man's  commmiities,  still  doomed  to  dwell 
With  walls  around  mo  :  as  soon  would  1  have 

My  bones  to  rot  in  the  cold  charnel  cell — 
When  1  am  dead — defrauded  of  a  grave. 
No  I  let  me  lie  at  large — the  long  grass  wave, 
And  the  wind  whistle,  o'er  me  :  I  would  be 
\a  life,  in  death,  living,  or  dying,  free. 


248  natuee's  kobilitt. 


II. 

•Free  !'  siiielst  thou,  Rover  ?  Christ  can  make  thee  free. 

Tho'  walls  uplift  around  thee  their  huge  forms  ; 
By  Hi:n  enfranchised,  boudless  may'^il  thou  be. 

As  rocli-perched  eagle  ;  chainless  as  the  storms, 
That  wave  iheir  pinions  en  the  mountain's  top  ; 

Firm  as  yon  pillared  aky,  the  promise  stands : 
This  earth  may  fleet  away,  the  stars  may  (hop — 

Captive  in  cities !  He  can  burst  thy  hands. 
There  frowns  no  cell,  where  sun-beam  ne'er  hath  come  ; 

No  dunocon  deep,  where  night  and  horror  breed, 

Wljerc  ])ines  the  prisoned  wretch  in  solitude  : 
But  he  can  cheer,  and  chase  away  its  gloom. 
Still  at  Ills  Louch.  shackles  and  fetters  fall 
From  the  freed  soul ;  tliat  soars  at  once  from  thrall. 


Is^ATUEE'S  MOBILITY. 

I  LOVE  the  great — the  few,  the  honored  great ; 
Wliose  patent-deed  of  true  nobihty 
Stan;pcu  on  the  soul,  by  Ilcav'n's  own  hand,  v.'e  sec. 

Tli'  endowment  of  a  spirit  elevate 

Above  low  earth;  the  power  of  godlike  thought- 
Nature's  free  boon,  that  never  can  be  bought — 

This  is  Nobility,  and  high  estate. 

The  paltry  proud — who  glory  in  their  gold, 
Their  titled  v/ealth  ;  ancestral,  broad  domains  ; 
Their  lineage,  which  serves  in  lieu  of  brains — 


THEEMOPYL^.  249 

May  mock  such  men  ;  and  scornfully  behold  : 

Yet  the  crowned  king,  o'er  prostrate  realms  that  reigns. 
Hath  no  such  treasure  in  his  gift,  I  trow : 
Tho  monarchy  of  mind  Heav'n  can  alone  bestow. 

THERMOPYLAE. 


I, 

Thermopyl^  ! 
Proud  gate  of  glory  ! 

Watchword  of  Liberty, 
Till  from  Time's  brow  be  rent  the  scant  locks  hoary ! 

While  CEta's  steep, 
Sternly  majestic,  frowns  o'er  thy  dark  valley  ; 

Still  at  that  word,  with  passions  high  and  deep, 
Freedom's  true  sons  shall  to  the  conflict  rally. 

II, 

Boast  of  the  brave  ! 
The  hero's  charter ! 

Who — who  would  fear  a  grave. 
Like  his — Leonidas, — his  country's  martyr  ! 

Head  of  the  warrior  band. 
Whose  blood,  as  swells  the  torrent  from  the  mountain. 

Swept  slavery  afar  from  that  loved  land  ; 
And  purified  earth's  borders  with  its  fountain. 

22 


250  THERMOrrLJE. 

m. 

Thermopylae ! 
Thy  fame  is  glorious ; 

Hallowed  that  region  be, 
Where  fought  the  few,  o'er  million  slaves  victorious.    ' 

We,  of  this  later  time. 
Can  glow  e'en  at  the  tale  in  hist'ry's  pages ; 

How  felt  at  the  great  hour  that  band  sublime. 
Whose  daring  deed  shines  through  the  gloom  of  ages  ! 

IV. 

Where  Qilta's  fonn 
Its  brow  nplifteth — 

Defies  tlie  raging  storm. 
Frowns  at  the  thunder-blast  its  crag  that  rifteth  .; 

Sits  Freedom  on  her  throne. 
Based  by  the  mountain  on  its  broad  foundations : 

Wide  o'er  the  world,  and  not  fair  Greece  alone, 
Darts  her  bright  eagle  glance  through  all  the  nations. 

V. 

Thermopylae  ! 
Deathless  example ! 

Like  those  that  fought — the  free — 
Would  that  our  souls  the  legion  foe  might  trample  ! 

Have  we  no  heroes  now — 
Noiv  when  Heav'n's  light  the  universe  hath  kindled  ; 

Drooping  his  high-bom  brow, 
Hath  monarch  Man  to  pigmy  stature  dwindled  ? 


THE   DYING   SOLDIER.  251 

VI. 

Spirit  of  War — 
Earth's  plague — still  slumber; 

Not  thee — not  thee  ;  thy  course  afar 
I  deprecate  :  yet,  yet,  ye  chosen  number — 

On,  Christians  !  to  the  fight  ; 
Hell  with  its  host  our  heav'nward  march  opposes : 

The  Prince  of  th'  aerial  pow'rs  displays  his  might : 
Firm  be  your  ranks — the  front  of  battle  closes. 

THE  DYING  SOLDIER. 


I. 

'With  shivered  spear,  and  with  dinted  shield, 
I  lay  me  in  blood,  on  the  battle  field  ; 
The  red  streams  gush  from  my  gory  side, 
And  the  sword -gash  foams  with  a  purple  tide. 

K. 

'3Iy  brothers  in  arms  have  left  me  lone, 
With  the  graveless  dead  around  me  strown ; 
And  ere  morning  comes,  and  the  star  of  day 
Looks  bright  in  the  east,  I  shall  be  as  they. 

III. 
'They  have  left  me  lone,  to  bleed  and  to  die . 
Not  one  of  my  friends  or  of  kindred  nigh  ; 
With  the  vulture's  shriek  as  my  passing-bell, 
And  the  night-wind  to  ring  my  fun'ral  knell. 


•20S  THE   DYING   SOLDIER. 

IV. 

'My  heart  throbs  low,  and  mine  eye  is  dim, 
And  the  shadows  of  death  around  me  swim  ; 
And  coldly,  coldly,  the  rains  distil 
On  my  faint  wet  brow,  and  my  bosom  chill. 

V. 

'Tho'  low  beats  that  heart,  and  dim  be  that  eye, 

I  see  a  vision,  before  me,  nigh ; 

The  loved,  and  the  lost,  a  saintly  band, 

In  all  their  kindness  and  beauty  stand. 

VI. 

»      'Mother  !  is  that  thy  tender  breast 

That  wooes  thy  son  to  its  gentle  rest  ? — 

Father  !  are  those  thy  looks  of  love, 

That  beam  on  my  brow  like  smiles  from  above  ? 

VII. 

'Sisters  !  and  have  ye  come  to  bless 

The  last  sad  hour  of  my  wretchedness  ? 

Brother  !  I  feel  thy  friendly  grasp  ; 

And  my  heart's  blood  burneth  thy  form  to  clasp. 

viix.  ■ 
'Wife  !  hast  thou  left  yon  azure  steep. 
To  watch  o'er  my  earthy  bed  and  weep. 
With  our  sweet  babes  shedding  their  tears  as  a  flood, 
To  see  me  laid  on  my  couch  of  bleed  ? 

IX. 

'But  whose  is  this  wondrous  form  divine. 
Whose  eyes  of  light  thro'  my  spirit  shine, 


THE  SOLDIES'S   FUKERAL.  253 

Like  the  dawning  of  Heav'n  ?  my  Saviour  !  'tis  He  ! 
He  comes  ray  soul  from  her  bonds  to  free. 

X. 

*And  com'st  Thou,  Saviour  !  at  this  late  hoai 
To  visit  my  soul  with  thy  grace  and  pow'r  ? 
I  feel  Thy  blest  love  within  my  heart, 
I  am  Thine  I  I  am  Tiiine  1  no  more  Vv-e"il  part.' 

XI. 

He  passed — the  wind  ranghi.s  fun'ral  knell  ; 
The  vulture's  shriek  was  liis  passing-bell : 
Ere  morning  came,  and  the  star  of  day 
Looked  bright  o'er  the  dead,  he  was  as  they. 

THE  SOLDIER'S  FUNERAL. 


I. 
The  muISad  drum  knells  deeply,  hoarse  notes  the  cornets  slied  ; 
They  bear  the  Soldier's  body  by,  to  mingle  with  the  dead  : 
With  manly  sorrow  on  each  brow,  behold  yon  vet'rans  droop  : 
As,  vision-Tike,  fleets  on  a  cloud,  passes  that  mournful  troop. 

II. 

Not  as  the  dirge  that  swelleth,  vvliere  the  organ's  pealing  higli, 
In  the  dim  gloom  of  cathedral  aisle,  floateth  majestic  by  ; 
Wlicn  choral  channt,  and  strain  sublime,  ricli  harmonies  e.vpand, 
As  to  sepulchral  vault  sinks  down  some  noble  of  the  land  : 

.22* 


254  THE  soldier's  funeral. 

HI. 

Tlie  Soldier's  dirge  breathes  music  to  that  requiem  unknown, 
Heart-music  of  emotions  deep  ;  whose  proud  ,  yet  plaintive  tone  , 
Thrills  o'er  the  spirits  of  tlie  brave,  inkindlinei^s  that  yearn; 
Mingled  with  war's  fierce  minstrelsy,  the  trumpet's  clangour  stern. 

IV. 

And  seem  to  say  those  echoes  of  that  intermitting  drum — 

'Ye  dwellers  in  eternity,  behold  !  we  come,  we  come  ! 

'With  slow,  with  solemn  pace  we  coine ;  with  sure,  progressive 

tread, 
Anotlior,  and  anotlier  still — we're  marching  to  the  dead.' 

V. 

With  pike  and  gim  inverted,  and  banners  furled  above, 
Bound  witli  the  black  funereal  crape,  with  measured  step  they  move  : 
While  useless,  on  the  coffin's  lid,  the  carbine  true  is  seen  ; 
Significant,  bespeaking  what  the  dead  below  hath  been. 

VI. 

And  there  the  keen  sword  shinetli,  v/ith  belt  and  scabbard  bright, 

No  more  in  hand  of  him  below  to  glitter  in  the  fight : 

That  hand  lies  cold  and  clenched  beneath,  like  that  of  those  who 

die. 
Battling  with  the  terrific  king,  in  mortal  agony. 

VII. 

Death  came  not  sleep-like  o'er  him,  with  placid,  gentle  sway  ; 
Wild,  in  a  fever's  phrensied  rage,  his  spirit  burst  away  : 
One  fearful  pang — and  all  was  o'er,  the  blood  congealing  cold ; 
The  Soldier's  form  left  but  a  clod  of  earth's  decaying  mould. 


THE  soldier's  fukeeal.  255 

VIII. 

Pile,  pile  the  dark  earth  o'er  him  ;  and  beneath  the  shrouded  sun 
Raise,  raise  aloft  yourvolumed  smoke,  each  high-uplifted  gun  : 
And  while  your  reqaiem-thunder  rolls,  reverberating  near  ; 
Earth,  beav'ns,  and  mortal  man,  attend  !  to  warning  words  give 
ear. 

IX. 

Stand  we  upon  the  mountain  ;  o'er  whose  tremendous  verge, 
Til'  immeasurable  ocean  sweeps  its  unreturning  surge — 
Its  mallitude  of  billows — life's  illimitable  sea 
Of  human  heads ;  down  rolling  to  thy  gulf,  black  Death  !  and 
thee. 

X. 

How  vain  to  think  of  resting,  in  fearful  state  like  this, 
Catching  at  flow'rs  e'en  on  the  brink  that  overhangs  th'  abyss  I 
Ye  souls  !  be  wise — safety  secure — cling  to  that  arm  of  might ; 
That  can  sustain,  when  suns,  and  v.-orlds,  sink  in  eternal  night. 

XI. 

Soldier  !  it  nialtnrs  nothing,  whether  on  fevered  bed 
Thy  dying  limbs  v;ere  laid  at  last,  or  on  the  green  turf  spread  : 
Whether  kind  friends  watched  o'er  thee,  or  the  vulture's  cruel  eye ; 
If  as  a  Christian,  firm  in  fahh,  thou  didst  in  conq'ring  die. 

xn. 
For  thine,  if  thou  hast  vanquished,  is  the  immortal  crown, 
Worn  by  the  warrior-host  above  in  victory's  renown  : 
Palms  and  white  robes  beseem  them  well ;  sleep,  Soldier,  in  thy 

bed ; 
Nature  her  richest  bloom  bestow  ;  heav'ns  dews  be  o'er  tliee  shed. 


256  THE  DEFE.NXE  OF  DERKV. 

TIIE  DEFENCE  OF  DERRY. 


On  Derrt's  wall-s  the  cannon's  voice  spake  awfully  and  loud.; 

And  fast,  and  fierce,  its  fires  of  death  burst   from   the   volumed 

cloud  : 
And  dun   smoke  wreathed,  with  rolling  mist,  the   far  blue   hills 

away  ; 

Whence  th'  old  forefathers'. spirits   watched  the  conflict  of  that 

day. 

.       n. 

There  sat  their  spirits,  on  tlio.se  hills — each  cliiers  gigantic  form  ; 
With  glorious  eves  of  other  d.iys,  beheld  the  raging  storm  : 
They  saw  their  sons  stand  stern,  and  free,  while   flashed  each 

fearful  gun ; 
And  beamed  their  eyes  full  brightly,  at  the  deeds  of  valour  done. 

ui. 

A  thousand  hearts  were  burning,  in  that  pent  and  crowded  town, 
To  shed  their  blood,  as  martyrs,  for  -England's  Church  and  Crown  : 
The  body  of  their  pas'.or-chief  lay  mould'ring  in  the  grave ; 
And  never  closed  its  narrow  rc&f  o'er  patriot  more  brave. 

£V. 

But  hundred  heroes  filled  liis  ])lo,ce,  withliindred  daring  bold  ; 
And  battle's  thunders  roared  amain,  tho'  his  loved  corse  lay  cold  ; 
And  wild  War  raised  his  thrilling  siiout,  with  trumpet's  pealing 

proud  ; 
Till  seemed — the  buried  brave  might  hear,  tho' wrapjied  iu  stilly 

shroud. 


THE  DEFE^■CE  OF  DEERT.  257 

V. 

There  stood  a  spectre  o'er  the  dead,  with  fleshless,  bony  hands — 
Gaunt  Famine's  form,  and  name  it  bore — and  frowned  upon  those 

bands : 
And  many  a  gallant  check  waxed  white,  that  knew  not  fear  or 

dread ; 
As  fell  that  pallid  spectre's  pow'r  on  limbs  whose  might  had  fled. 

VI. 

But  soon  as  summons  to  the  fight  had  reached  those  ghastly  men. 
With  vigour  strange  each  feeble  form  was  sternly  steeled  again  : 
Tho'  nature  asked  refreshment,  for  the  worn  and  weary  frame  ; 
Yet  loyal  love,  and  fealty  firm,  had  still  a  stronger  claim : 

VII. 

And  rushed  they  to  tlie  battle,  with  a  war-cry  hoarse  and  deep, 
As  roars  the  torrent  from  the  rock,  when  snows  have  left  its  steep 
When,  at  the  touch  of  torrid  sun,  the  mighty  stream  swells  high  ; 
And  mountain  cliffs  are  crumbled  as  it  foams  in  fury  by. 

vin. 
A  traitor  vile  had  held  command  o'er  hearts  so  brave  and  true ; 
And  Derry's  gates  to  cruel  foes  he  widely  open  threw. 
Their  marshalled  force  came  nigh  and  close  : — but,  at  that  mo- 
ment, rose 
A  gen'rous  band  of  youths,  to  hurl  defiance  on  those  foes; 

IX. 

Bearded,  and  beardless,  in  their  prid?,  with  bosoms  heaving  high — 
The  spirit  of  a  hundred  hosts  flashed  forth  in  cv'ry  eye : 


258  THE  DEFENCE  OF  DEERY. 

And  Derry's  gates  were  trebly  barred ;  and  o'er  her  broad  based 

walls, 
From  blaclc-rnouthcd  cannon,    swept  a   storm  of  death-directed 

balls. 

X. 

And  now — tho'  long  to  dismal  strife  with  foes  and  famine  giv'n — 
Behold  !  upon  those  gallant  few  smiles  down  propitious  Heav'n ; 
And  Vict'ry  decks,  with  honours  bright,  and  palms   of  rich   re 

nown, 
The  conquerors  tliat  triumphed  for  England's  Church,  and  Crown. 

XI. 

Wake,  Erin  !  from  thy  trance  of  years — Hibernia  !  bless  the  day, 
When  loyal  love,  and  fealty  firm,  eiFulged  as  lightning's  ray  : 
When  thy  green  fields,  as  Eden  fair,  were  saved  from  despot 

blight ; 
And  thy  true-hearted,  fire-souled  sons,  put  forth  resistless  might. 

XII. 

Let  Deeey's  ramparts— banks  of  Eoyke— attest  the  wondrous 

pow'r, 
That  heav'n-born  faith,  and  manly  worth,  aiiord  in  danger's  hour  : 
Helped  from  on  high,  how  such  prevail;  as  in  dusk  reign 

niglit. 
When  th'  Moon  hatli  set,  do  starry  worlds  effuse  their  fairest 

light. 


THE  sriRES  OF  OLD  ENGLAND.  259 

THE  SPIRES  OF  OLD  EXGLA:ND. 


I. 
The  spires  of  old  England  !  that  point  to  tlie  skies , 
To  the  goal  of  our  hopes,  where  the  heart's  treasure  lies  ; 
To  the  home  of  the  spirit,  where  Jesus  is  gone— 
To  mansions  of  glory  which  Jesus  hath  won. 

n. 
The  spires  of  old  England  !  that  taper  above, 
Like  the  heart's  upward  flame  when  it  burneth  with  love  ; 
When  bright  with  the  dew  of  its  heavenly  birth. 
The  soul  looks  aloft  from  the  shadows  of  earth. 

HI. 

The  fair  villagerchurch  !  with  its  white  walls  of  snow, 
Its  ivy-crowned  porch,  with  the  stone  seats  below  : 
Where,  sheltered  alilie  from  the  storm  and  the  sun, 
Young  and  aged  may  rest,  when  their  labour  is  done. 

IV. 

Meek  temple  of  God  !  with  its  altar  and  shrine, 
Where  man  may  drink  deep  of  the  fountain  divine  : 
Where  the  prince  and  the  peasant  their  JMaker  adore — • 
Then  blend  in  one  dust,  when  life's  travail  is  o'er. 

V. 

The  o-reen  sodded  o-raves  !  that  affection  hath  dressed 
With  wreaths  of  bright  flowers, — where  the  wearied  ones  rest : 
The  eloquent  marble  !  last  tribute  to  those, 
The  loved  and  the  lost,  that  in  silence  repose; 


260  THE  SPIRES  OF  OLD  ENGLAND. 

VI. 

Blest  church  of  my  Itithers  !  the'  far  o'er  the  wave 
I've  wandered  from  thee,  and  the  loved  in  the  grave ; 
Though  the  friends  of  my  youth  be  all  sleeping  afar— ^ 
Be  thou  my  home  ever,  my  bright  polar-star ! 

vn. 
Remote  in  the  forest,  where  Canada's  snow, 
Or  her  sunlight  of  summer,  falls  brightly  below  ; 
I  see  thee,  T  see  thee  in  semblance  arise— 
Thine  offspring  of  beauty  is  dear  to  my  eyes, 

vn  I. 
O  fair  tender  scion  !  whose  early  youth  seems 
Reflection  of  her  that  haunts  memory's  dreams  ; 
How  fair,  yet  how  feeble — far  off  and  away — 
Thy  leaflets  arc  waving,  thy  fiow'r  drinks  the  day  ! 

IX. 

In  sorrow,  in  weakness,  like  sire-bereft  child, 
That  no  mother  hath  cared  for,  thou  weep'st  in  the  wild  : 
Yet  dried  be  thy  tears,  and  thy  mourning  forego ; 
For  the  Lord  is  thy  banner,  and  smiles  on  thy  woe. 

X. 

The  Lord  is  thy  banner !  the  might  of  his  power 
Shall  shield  thee  and  save  thee,  thou  young  forest  flower 
Thy  foes  cannot  crush  thee,  tho'  slight  be  thy  stem, 
For  the  Lord  is  with  thee,  and  but  weakness  with  them. 

XI. 

Meek  temple  of  God  !  when  oppression  and  ruih 
Are  poured  on  thy  walls,  be  thy  bulwark  the  truth  : 


THE   MOURNING   MOTHER.  261 

Though  tempest  and  flood  in  their  fury  unite, 
Stand  firm  in  the  Lord,  in  tlie  power  of  his  might. 

XII. 

Though  the  curse  of  the  godless  upon  thee  be  poured, 
Oh  !  be  thou  still  blessed  with  the  smile  of  the  Lord ; 
Be  thy  battlement  strong  !  thy  foundation  below 
Firmly  based  on  the  Rock,  that  no  power  can  o'erthrow. 

xni. 
Then  grow,  and  still  gather  the  good  of  the  clime — 
Till  strong  in  the  stature  of  manhood  and  prime, 
The  fullness  of  glory  around  thee  be  spread, 
And  thy  white-vestured  form  be  all  worthy  thy  Head ! 

THE  MOURNING  MOTHER: 

OR  THE  CHURCH  AND  HER  CHILDREN. 


I. 

L\  a  desolate  land,  where  the  snow  lay  deep, 
I  saw  for  her  children  a  mother  weep ; 
Sorrow  had  filled  her  heart  to  the  brim  ; 
Her  cheek  was  pale,  and  her  eye  was  dim  : 

n. 
And  each  burning  tear,  e'en  as  it  fell, 
Became  on  that  check  an  icicle ; 
An  ice-drop  of  woe — dark,  stagnant,  and  chill, 
Like  the  blood  of  a  heart  that  for  aye  lies  still. 

23 


-  262  THE  MOURNING  MOTHER. 

m. 
She  wept  for  her  babes,  for  her  Httle  ones 
Afar  from  her  bosom — both  daughters  and  sons  ; 
For  she  had  no  home  in  that  wilderness, 
To  gather  them  in,  and  to  cheer  and  to  bless. 

rv. 
And  roved  those  children  like  lambs  astraj', 
And  the  wolf  had  made  of  the  weak  a  prey  : 
And  scattered  were  all  as  without  a  fold ; 
And  the  love  of  many  had  long  waxed  cold. 

V. 

Yet  some  remained — and  those  not  a  few — 
Who  burned  with  affection  both  warm  and  true  ; 
Uplifting  their  prayers  to  Him  on  high, 
That  their  mother's  tears  might  soon  be  dry. 

VI. 

A  cloud  on  their  spirits  lay  dark  and  deep, 

And  their  eyes  as  a  fountain  ne'er  ceased  to  weep  ; 

Beholding  the  scorn  of  the  scoffer  rest 

On  the  hallowed  form,  that  their  souls  loved  best. 

vn. 
It  vanished — that  mournful  scene  went  by. 
As  a  dream  of  the  night  when  morn  is  nigh : 
I  saw  that  mother  in  beauty  stand. 
Encircled  by  sons — a  blissful  band. 

vm. 
And,  like  olive  plants  in  vernal  pride, 
Her  blooming  daughters  adorned  her  side  : 


THE   WANDERER  BROUGHT  HOME.  263 

And  thrilled  my  soul  that  mother  to  see, 
Smiling  in  love  mid  her  family. 

IX. 

For  joy  now  filled  her  heart  to  the  brim  ; 
Not  pale  was  her  cheek,  her  eye  was  not  dim  : 
But  glory,  like  that  of  the  noon-day  sky, 
Shed  lustre  around  from  that  tearless  eye. 

X. 

Then  rose  a  temple,  whose  marble  vied 
With  the  new-fall'n  snow  by  the  sunbeam  dyed ; 
Whose  spires  of  gold  seemed  the  stars  to  kiss  : 
And  she  welcomed  them  into  that  home  of  bliss. 

XI. 

And  thence  shall  those  children  no  more  depart ; 
For  the  love  of  tliat  home  lies  deep  in  their  heart : 
And  death  cannot  sever  the  sacred  tie. 
Which  binds  as  one  soul  that  family. 

THE  WANDERER  BROUGHT  HOME. 


I 
I  ROVED  thro'  a  forest  both  grey  and  old. 
Where  but  tangled  trees  did  mine  eye  behold  ; 
And  the  king  of  the  storms  on  the  whirlwind  came. 
And  the  lightning  crested  the  clouds  with  flame  ; 
And  the  thunder-blast  thro'  the  branches  burst. 
And  the  foul  fiend  yelled  with  his  cries  accursed  : 


264  THE  WANDEKER  BROUGHT  HOME. 

n. 
And  night,  as  the  outer  darkness  of  hell, 
In  its  blackness  of  gloom  o'er  that  forest  fell : 
But  the  frequent  flash  from  the  lurid  cloud, 
That  warped  o'er  the  heav'ns  its  murky  shroud, 
Sufficed,  with  its  funeral  light,  to  show 
That  my  way  was  lost,  and  my  lot  was  woe. 

III. 
I  wandered,  alone,  along,  away, 
With  none  to  guide  me  as  I  did  stray ; 
And  the  home  where  my  soul  desired  to  be, 
That  throbbed  my  heart  and  my  brain  to  see, 
Rose  not  upon  my  benighted  view  : — 
Mine  eye  was  darkness,  my  hopes  withdrew. 

IV. 

Full  many  a  path  since  the  morning-hour. 
Pleasant  -with  green  and  the  wild  wood-flow'r, 
Had  I  trod — still  deeming,  as  on  I  roved, 
Each  w^ould  conduct  to  the  landl  loved  : 
Full  many  a  sparkling  stream  I  crossed ; 
But  found  at  e"en  that  my  way  was  lost. 

V. 

The  friends  that  near  me  full  long  were  found, 

Each  had  strayed  mid  the  paths  around  ; 

And  lonely  and  sad  as  my  steps  I  plied 

Grim  darkness  and  fear  was  at  my  side  : 

No  star  looked  bright  from  the  frowning  heav'n, 

No  guiding  ray  to  my  soul  was  given. 


THE    WANDERER  BROUGHT  HOME.  265 

VI. 

Weak  child  of  dust — on  the  wet,  cold  sod, 
I  sank,  while  my  soul  uplooked  to  God ; 
Uplooked  to  Him,  who,  enthroned  on  high. 
Still  hears  and  heeds  when  th'  afflicted  cry  : 
While  sank  my  form  upon  kindred  clay ; 
My  spirit  arose,  in  strength,  to  pray. 

vn. 
What  was  my  pray'r,  while  the  whirlwind  came, 
And  circled  my  brow  the  lightning's  flame — 
While  the  thunder  roared  from  its  throne  the  cloud, 
And  the  tempest  threatened  both  deep  and  loud — 
What  was  my  pray'r  as  howled  by  the  blast, 
And  the  darkness  of  death  o'er  the  heav'ns  was  cast  ? 

vm. 
Tiiere  sped  ao  sound  from  my  pulseless  breast, 
The  heart  stood  still  in  its  fearful  rest ; 
No  accents  of  mine  on  the  gale  were  heard, 
Nor  voice,  nor  breath,  in  my  bosom  stirred  : 
But  my  spirit  waxed  strong  in  silent  pray'r, 
And  soared  'bove  the  shadows  of  black  despair. 

IX. 

I  prayed — '  that  the  light  of  love  divine. 

As  a  lamp  to  my  feet,  and  my  soul,  might  shine ; 

That  He,  who  for  sinful  man  did  bleed. 

Thro'  the  tangled  forest  my  way  would  speed  ; 

And  bring  me  at  last  to  the  wished-for  home. 

Whence  my  wearied  spirit  no  more  should  roam.' 

22* 


266  THE  WANDERER  BROUGHT  HOME. 

X. 

While  lowly  thus  unto  God  I  prayed, 

A  silvery  beam  thro'  tlie  forest  played  ; 

Like  the  moon's  sweet  ray,  when,  at  midnight  lone, 

Her  gentle  light  o'er  the  world  is  strown  : 

Hushed  was  the  the  storm  ;  o'er  my  feeble  frame, 

A  vigour  more  than  of  mortal  came. 

XI. 

I  rose,  and  looked  thro'  that  forest  grey, 

For  the  path  whence  my  feet  should  no  longer  stray  ; 

I  sought,  mid  its  tangled  thickets  old, 

If  the  home  of  this  heart  might  mine  eye  behold  : 

Fled  was  my  fear — as  a  bird  in  spring 

Hope  hovered  around  on  buoyant  wing. 

XII. 

Then  came,  as  from  heav'n,  a  white  winged  dove, 
With  liquid  lapse  thro'  the  skies  above  ; 
And  as,  like  a  star,  it  before  me  went — 
Methought  'twas  on  errand  of  mercy  sent, 
To  guide  me  thro'  maze  of  that  forest  lone, 
With  its  thousand  paths  and  thickets  o'ergrown. 

XIII. 

Onward  I  sped ;  tlie  gloom  was  gone — 
A  beauteous  light  o'er  the  prospect  shone  ; 
And  gilded  with  gold  of  morning's  ray, 
And  bright  with  the  beam  of  new-born  day, 
I  viewed  the  home  where  my  soul  would  be ; 
That  throbbed  my  heart  and  my  brain  to  see. 


COMING    TO   CHRIST.  267 

XIV. 

O  Church  of  God  !  where  the  wearied  rest — 
Home  of  the  spirit,  beloved  and  blest ! 
Where  wanders  the  soul  thro'  forests  dark, 
Or  when  ocean's  wild  wave  surround  our  bark  ; 
May  mercy  still  beacon  our  course  to  thee, 
Our  home,  our  haven,  by  land,  by  sea  I 

COMING  TO  CHRIST. 


I. 
Christ  has  declared — 'whoever  come  to  Him, 

Shall  not  be  cost  away :'  therefore  I  come, 

With  utterance  of  woe  which  ne'er  is  dumb, 
To  Thee,  the  living  God  !  from  darkness  dim, 
Where  shadows  as  of  death  around  me  swim. 
Ascends  my  soul  aloft,  where  seraphim 

Circle  Thy  throne :  where  the  archangels  veil 
Their  starry  eyes:  beyond  the  dusky  cloud — 
Earth's  canopy — to  where  Thy  hand  hath  bowed 

Yonder  bright  heav'ns ;  whose  glories  ne'er  wax  pale  ; 
Behold  I  come,  strong  in  my  misery  ! 

Tho'  man,  of  woman  born,  be  weak  and  Trail ; 

Yet,  with  no  fear  that  this  my  pray'r  can  fail, 
I  bend  before  Tiiy  throne  :  do  Thou  my  helper  be. 


268  i'll  think  on  thee. 

I'LL  THINK  ON  THEE. 


I. 

At  midnisht,  when  earth's  sable  shadow  dwelleth 
Deeply  and  darkly  over  land  and  sea — 

When  not  one  single  star  the  gloom  dispelleth — 
Lord  of  all  life !  my  soul  shall  think  on  Thee. 

II. 
At  even,  when  day's  weary  eye  is  closing, 

And  silent  nature  slumbers  peacefully  ; 
And  on  her  breast  her  children  lie  reposing, 

Hushed  in  sweet  rest ;  O  Lord  !  I'll  think  on  Thee. 

III. 
And  when  the  golden  garb  of  morn  enfoldeth 

Each  mountain,  and  each  valley,  fair  to  see ; 
When  pleasant  are  the  sights  man's  eye  beholdeth, 

In  earth  and  heaven  ;  O  Lord  !  Til  think  on  Thee. 

IV. 

At  the  deep  noon,  companionless  and  lonely, 

Tracing  my  trackless  steps  where  none  can  see — 

Save  yon  broad  eye  of  glory  beaming  only 
In  the  blue  vault ;  O  Lord  !  I'll  think  on  Thee. 

V. 

In  solitude,  in  crowds,  in  rest,  in  motion — 
By  night,  by  day,  upon  the  land  or  sea — 

In  deserts  dark,  or  tossed  on  troubled  ocean, 
Lord  of  all  life  !  my  soul  shall  think  on  Thee, 


THE    MOKNING    SUN.  269 

VI. 

From  all  of  sin  and  wicked  works  avert  me  ; 

Open  mine  eyes,  that  I  thy  love  may  see  : 
"Keep  me  from  evil,  that  it  may  not  hurt  me;" 

And  then  with  joy — my  God  !  I'll  think  on  Thee. 

THE  MORNING  SUN. 


I. 
How  glorious  is  the  morning  snn, 

That  gilds  the  world  with  light  ! 
How  like  a  monarch  doth  he  run 

In  proud,  imperial  might  ! 

ir. 

Aloft  toward  heaven  behold  him  bound- 
Beneath  his  burning  eye, 

A  flood  of  splendour,  all  around, 
Enkindles  earth  and  sky. 

m. 
Majestic,  free — high  o'er  the  hills 

He  lifts  his  lustrous  brow  ; 
Yon  azure  arch  with  glory  fills. 

With  light  the  world  below. 

IV. 

Morn,  rosy,  blushing,  meets  his  glance, 
With  cheek  of  crimson  hue ; 

Magnificent,  heav'n's  wide  expanse 
Ten  thousand  tints  bestrew. 


270  THE    MORNING    SUN. 

V. 

The  rivers  rush,  with  gladdening  voice, 

To  greet  him  on  his  way ; 
Earth's  universal  reahna  rejoice, 

And  bless  the  King  of  Day. 

VI. 

Lo  !  the  broad  sea  uplifts  in  love 

Its  curling  billows  high  ; 
To  welcome,  to  his  throne  above  ; 

The  Sov'reign  of  the  sky. 

VII. 

Its  whisp'ring  tones  the  forest  blends 

With  music  of  the  sea  ; 
And  sOng  of  birds,  that  sweet  ascends 

Like  angels'  harmony. 

vra. 
Tlie  silv'ry  streams  that  thread  the  grove. 

Bright  glitt'ring  to  his  ray, 
Utter  sweet  voices  as  they  rove — 

Soft  music  as  they  stray. 

IX. 

Their  forms  sublime  the  hills  unfold, 
Wrapped  in  ethereal  fire  ; 

Crowned  bright  with  light  of  living  gold. 
Their  heads  to  heav'n  aspire. 

X. 

The  lakes,  slight  rippling  to  the  breeze. 
Calm  wake  from  gentle  rest; 


THE   MORNING   SUN.  271 

^lorn's  spirit  stirs  among  the  trees, 
With  vernal  blossoms  dressed. 

XI. 

Laugh  the  blithe  flowers  ;  with  sportive  glee, 

The  wild  lierds  bound  alontr  : 
Fields,  forests,  mountains,  land  and  sea, 

Burst  forth  in  one  o-lad  sono-. 

xu. 
Dead  matter  smiles  ;  beside  the  stream 

The  cold  rocks,  stern  and  grey, 
With  looks  of  love  embrace  his  beam, 

And  revel  in  his  ray. 

xni. 
A  boundless  bLize  of  Iivin>Tlia-ht 

Bursts  from  the  glowing  east; 
Fled  are  the  frowns  of  cheerless  night ; 

Earth's  dreary  dreams  have  ceased. 

XIV. 

Nature  exults  :  'Wake,  world  !  awake, 

To  life  and  love,'  she  cries  ; 
'Brief-during  Morn  !  thy  sleep  forsake. 

With  joyful  heart  arise.' 

XV. 

'  Wake,  Morn  !  awake  !  it  is  the  hour 

When  gates  of  heav'n  unfold  ; 
When  Paradise,  in  beauty's  pow'r. 

May  mortal  eyes  behold.' 


272  WINTER. 

WINTER. 


I. 

O  Summer  !  thou  art  beautiful ;  thy  glory,  and  thy  bliss, 
Seem  doubly  bright  to  memory  in  moments  like  to  this, 
When  the  winter-fiend  is  howling,  and  the  tempests  fiercely  blow; 
And  all  around  us  earth  expands  a  wilderness  of  snow. 

II. 

The  icicles,  beneath  the  eaves,  break  with  a  clatt'ring  sound  ; 
The  snow-flakes,  from  the  roof,  by  night,  crasli  on  the  frozen 

ground : 
While  howls  the  wolf  with  horror,  in  his  cavern,  gaunt  and  grim  ; 
And  agonized,  the  forest  writhes  each  massive,  mighty  limb. 

in. 

The  monarch  mountain  stands  aghast, — his  heart  though  firm  is 
shaken ; 

While,  summoned  by  the  tempest-king,  the  caverned  echoes  wa- 
ken : 

Low  in  the  vale,  where  lie  the  loved,  each  in  their  narrow  bed, 

Groans  o'er  the  graves  the  hollow  wind — strange  mourning  for  the 
dead ! 

IV. 

The  wan  moon,  mid  the  shiv'ring  stars,  look  desolate  and  dim  ; 
All  languidly  the  sun  uplifts  his  brow  o'er  ocean's  brim  ; 
Glares  with  a  faint  eye  shudd'ring  above  the  lurid  w"ave, 
Ghastly  as  human  face  divine  that  withers  in  the  grave. 


WINTER.  273 

V. 

The  dawn-star,  like  a  sparkle  of  that  mock,  unreal  sun, 
Believed  of  old  to  shine  for  those  whose  earthly  day  is  done — 
Sun  of  the  dead,  whose  spectral  ray  in  Erebus  gave  light, 
To  show  the  darkness — opes  its  eye  with  cold  effulgence  bright. 

VI. 

Oh  !  hasten  Summer  !  with  thy  blush  of  maiden  beauty  bright ; 
Again  be  earth  a  paradise  with  flow'ry  vesture  dight : 
I^et  the  great  sun  look  down  from  heav'n  with  an  unclouded  eye ; 
Again,  by  night,  the  moon  be  decked  with  silv'ry  smiles  on  high. 

VII. 

Aris3,  my  soul  Ithcugh  winter's  frost  hath  chilled  creation  round, 

Though  howls  the  wolf  and  shrieks  the  storm,  with  voice  of  fear- 
ful sound  ; 

Hast  though  not  better  cause  for  cheer,  than  summer's  radiant 
bloom  ? 

Cannot  a  Saviour's  love  tliy  darkest  dreariness  illume  ? 

SPRING. 


O  Spring  !  thou  art  a  season  of  delight ; 
All  round  is  beauty,  all  above  is  bright ; 
In  garb  of  loveliness  the  earth  is  dressed, 
Sweet,  fragrant  flow'rs,  are  blooming  on  her  breast. 
More  vivid,  hourly,  grows  that  garb  of  green  ; 
Burst  forth  the  buds  behind  their  velvet  screen  ; 
The  forest  spreads  its  leaflets  to  the  sky, 
Gilt  willi  a  radiant  glory  from  on  high  : 

24 


2T4  SPKIKG, 

The  tender  dews  descend  m  tears  of  bliss. 
And  all  night  long  the  humid  herbage  kiss ; 
And  thence  arise,  at  dawn  of  early  morn, 
To  nurse  the  infant  blossoms  newly  born. 
Freed  from  its  icy  bonds,  the  merry  stream 
Laughs,  dances,  sparkles  in  the  gsldcn  beam  ; 
Then  bounds  along  to  greet  the  fresli'ning  grass. 
That  waves  a  welcome  as  the  waters  pass  : 
Close  to  his  mate,  eacli  niinstrel  of  the  grove. 
Fond  nestling,  breathes  his  sciis.  of  ardent  love. 
Creation  smiles,  like  dreams  at  dawn  of  day  ; 
Winter  with  all  his  gloom,  hath  passed  away. 

0  Spring  !  thou  art  a  time  when  tears  should  ccasc- 
Save  those  of  joy — an  hour  for  love  and  peace  ; 
Yet  comes  a  shade  of  sadness  o'er  my  mind — 

1  gaze  around,  and  think  upon  the  blind  ! 
I  think  upon  the  darkness,  and  the  gloom. 
That  hang  o'er  such,  like  shadows  of  the  tomb  ;'i 
No  sky  for  them,  no  verdure  and  no  light, 

No  beauteous  morn,  but  one  long  moonless  night. 
"Oh  1  dark,  dark,  dark,"  well  might  the  poet  say— » 
The  Bard  sublime,  an  whom  this  sorrow  lay ; 
From  nature's  charms,  earth's  ever  varying  scene, 
Cut  off,  "shut  out,"  by  the  "thick  drop  serene." 
Yet — yet,  for  this,  as  for  all  earthly  woes, 
A  healing  balm  from  blest  religion  flov.-s  ; 
No  eye  is  dark  in  Heav'n  ;  no  shadow  dim, 
TJiere  shrouds  the  soul :  but,  bright  as  serapliiin, 
It  revels  in  immortal  glory's  ray  ; 
And  drinks  the  hght  of  everlasting  day. 


TO   THE    KIVER   TRENT.  2f75 


TO  THE  RIVER  TRENT. 


I. 
^ToBLE  river!  rusliingon, 

Deep  and  broad,  and  bright  and  free 
Winter's  rage  hath  come  and  gone  : 

But  K.0  bonds  he  had  for  thee. 

II. 
Strong,  unfettered,  bold  and  deep. 

Here,  in  majesty,  thy  tide 
Rushes  with  resistless  sweep'; 

Pours  along  in  stately  pride. 

Blue  thy  breast,  with  billows  briglit 
Sparkling  in  the  fervid  ray  ; 

Glorious  is  thy  stream  with  light, 
Gilt  with  gold  of  vernal  daj. 

Green  thy  banks,  with  budding  groves 
Bordering  the  meadows  fair  ; 

Still  thy  shore  the  cedar  loves, 
Shoots  the  tamarack  high  iu  air. 

V. 

Cedars  white,  and  alders  grey, 
Circh'ng  many  a  lordly  pine  ; 

Giant  oaks  their  forms  display  ; 
Pirs,  whose  silv'ry  leaflets  shine. 


276  TO  THE   RIVER   TRENT. 

VI. 

Hangs  the  mighty  maple  o"er 

Trunks  upturned  and  rocks  around  : 

Hark  .'  I  hear  a  sullen  roar — ■ 

'Tis  the  rapid's  thundering  sound, 

VII. 

Boil  the  foamin<r  torrents  throufjh 
Rocks,  that  fain  would  check  their  rage 

See  !  the  monarch  stream  anew 
Calm  pursues  his  pilgrimage. 

vin. 
Calml3f,  through  the  forest  glade, 

View  his  peaceful  current  glide ; 
Solemn,  now,  through  deep'ning  shade, 

Dark,  yet  tranquil,  is  his  tide. 

IX. 

Onward,  on  !  the  goal  is  nigh  : 
Glorious  lake  !  thy  form  I  view 

Blending  with  th'  ethereal  sky — 
One  bright  tract  of  boundless  blue. 

X. 

Noble  river  !  fare  thee  well '. 

As  thy  current,  strong  and  deep. 
Onward — irresistible — 

May  my  soul  its  progress  keep. 

XI. 

Heav'nward  to  its  peaceful  home. 
In  the  world  where  live  the  blest ; 


-THE  BIRDS   OF   SPRING.  -277 

Past  the  rocks,  the  rapids'  foam, 
Thus  may  speed — there  gladly  rest 

THE  BIRDS  OF  SPRI^'G. 


Love  to  you,  lovely  birds !  and  your  wild  lay, 

Sweet  sung  beneatli  th'  approving  smile  of  May. 

Glad  heralds  of  delight !  your  angel  voice 

Thrills  through  my  heart,  and  bids  my  soul  rejoice. 

I!o\v  exquisite  your  notes  unto  mine  ear. 

Long  stunned  by  hswliug  storms  of  winter  drear ! 

How  wildly  glad,  amid  th'  unfeldiag  Jeaves- 

They  tell  a  tale  the  willing  iieart  believes  ! 

They  tell  of  bliss,  of  beauty,  and  of  flow'rs ; 

Of  paradisal,  green,  ambrasialb&w're; 

Of  odours  breathing  from  the  enamelled  field  ; 

Of  scects  and  sweets  the  painted  gardens  yield; 

Of  buds  and  blossoms  waving  to  the  breeze ; 

Of  tasselled  wreaths  that  crown  the  verdant  trees  : 

Of  golden  days,  when  summer's  light  shall  be 

Shed,  as  a  glorious  flood,  o'er  land  and  sea  ; 

Of  blasliing morn, and  gentle  eventide, 

Of  Ui3  bright  moon,  bedecked  in  silv'ry  pride  ; 

Of  gorgeous  noon,  night's  majesty,  the  deep 

Hour,  when  the  eyes  of  Nature  close  in  sleep. 

And,  oh  !  far  more  than  these,  they  tell  of  love, 

Nestling  within  tlie  bosom  like  a  dove  ! 

Clest  love — that  makes  the  jarring  wheels  of  Hfe 

Jioll  smootlily  on  ;  and  heals  our  inward  strife. 

24* 


278  ITALIAN   KIGHT   SCENE. 

iSueet  birds  !  oh  !  may  your  hours  in  Miss  be  passed  ; 
Nor  cloud,  nor  storm,  their  sunshine  overcast. 

ITALIAN  NIGHT  SCENE. 

I. 
The  heavenly,  holy,  and  beauteous  night, 
With  its  solemn  stillness,  its  cal^a  moonlight ; 
The  fathomless  depth  of  the  sapphire  sky. 
With  beryl  billows  broad  heaving  on  high ; 
The  starry  gems  in  tlieir  tVt'inkling  play  ; 
The  planets  pure,  with  their  steadfast  ray  ; 
The  moon  all  fair  as  a  virgin  bride. 
With  her  si.-ter  stars  in  their  meek  pale  pride  , 
Ocean,  that  seems,  in  his  slumber  deep, 
To  dream  of  heav'n  in  the  bow'r  of  sleep  ; 
The  streamlet  that  pauses  upon  its  way. 
And  drinks  deep  love  where  the  moonbeams  stray  ; 
The  ship,  that  drooping  its  wings  of  white. 
Tracks  not  o'er  the  waves  its  line  of  light ; 
The  forest  that  bending  above  the  stream, 
Lies  lulled  in  a  soothing  romantic  dream  ; 
The  mountains  uplifting  their  peaks  of  blue  ; 
The  crags  all  white  with  silvery  hue  ; 
The  feathering  woods  in  the  moonlight  grey  ; 
The  sloping  hills  whence  the  waters  stray  ; 
The  castled  clifFs  that,  high  o'er  the  dale, 
Keep  watch  o'er  the  sleep  of  theshad'wy  vale^ 
All  tell  'tis  the  soft,  heart-soothing  hour, 
When  the  soul  from  the  skies  drinks  bliss  and  pow'r  ; 


ITALIAN   NIGHT   SCENE.  279 

All  tell  'tis  the  hour,  when  the  spirit  should  be 
From  earthly  cares,  and  enthralment,  free. 

II. 
Tlie  beacon's  blaze  from  its  tow'r  is  seen, 
Gilding  the  waves,  and  yon  shores  of  green  ; 
Vv  hich  fringed  by  foam  of  the  sparkling  spray, 
Look  lovelier  far  than  in  glare  of  day. 
The  cypress  tall,  with  its  sable  spire. 
Is  gilt  with  glow  of  that  ruddy  fire. 
And  o'er  the  white  cot  where  lovers  sleep, 
In  solemn  state  doth  its  vigils  keep. 
The  olives  bend  with  unwonted  weight, 
The  vines  droop  low  'neath  their  juicy  freight ; 
The  garden  bow'rs,  in  the  hush  of  night, 
Are  clothed  with  a  calmer,  purer  light, 
Than  the  golden  flood  of  the  noon-tide  hour  ; 
And  the  pale  moonbeam,  o'er  fountain  and  flow'r, 
Falls  blended  v;hh  sweet  ambrosial  dew, 
That  softens  the  scene  with  its  misty  hue. 
The  fire-flies  sparkle  amid  the  leaves, 
Where  the  silk-worm  its  thread  of  silver  weaves  : 
Where  the  light  wind,  that  sweeps  o'er  ocean's  breast, 
Scarce  stirs  those  leaves  in  their  gentle  rest ; 
The  hum  of  the  city  hath  died  away. 
Nor  v/hisjier  the  waves  in  their  voiceless  play. 
But  whose  is  that  form  on  yonder  hill. 
That  stalks  like  a  ghost  while  the  world  lies  still— 
The  clank  of  whose  arms  upon  the  ear, 
In  the  solemn  stillness,  sounds  strange  and  drear  ? 
'Tis  the  warder,  that  moves  in  the  moonlight  above, 
Where  the  fortress  frowns  o'er  yon  sheltered  cove. 


280  NIGHT   STORM, 

'Tis  pleasant  to  gaze  o'er  the  wat'ry  world, 

When  not  a  ripple  its  breast  hath  curled  ; 

'Tis  pleasant  to  look  o"er  the  moonlit  fields, 

And  breathe  of  the  halm  the  garden  yields  ; 

'Tis  s^veet,  to  behold  the  forest  lie 

liOne  sleeping,  in  silent  majesty  ; 

'Tis  pleasant  to  see  the  reposiag  ship 

In  the  harbour's  waters  its  white  sails  dip  ; 

*Tis  lovely  to  see  the  moon  cast  down 

Ilcr  silvery  light,  o'er  the  forests  browa  ; 

And  "lis  sweet  to  view  the  placid  sea 

Reflecting  the  skies'  fair  imag'ry. 

Yet  there  be  lovelier  sights  I  weeii. 

Than  man's  dull  eye  hath  on  earth  e'er  seen  : 

There  isieauty,  and  splendour,  that  mortal  eye 

Ne'er  saw  upon,  earth,  in  ocean,  nor  sky : 

Revealings  of  such  to  the  soul  are  given, 

That  walks  with  God.  with  a  heart  in  Heaven. 

NIGHT  STORM. 

■ON  THE  SOUTH  COAST  OF  ITALY. 


I. 

The  moon  rode  high,  the  heav'ns  were  fair, 
There  stirred  no  sound  through  the  voiceless  air; 
There  breathed  no  wind  thro'  the  sheltered  grove, 
Fiave  a  breeze  as  soft  as  the  sigh  of  love — 


NIGHT  STORM.  281 

That  stole  o'er  the  sleep  of  the  elms  vine-ciirlcd, 

Like  music  that  comes  from  the  spirit  world. 

The  shores  shelved  down  to  the  waters  wide, 

And  gazed  at  their  green  in  the  waveless  tide  ; 

The  flow'rs  that  close  bordered  the  blue  serene, 

In  that  magic  mirror  were  lovcHerseen. 

For  the  waters  were  pure,  and  as  crystal  clear; 

And  each  fairy  form  did  therein  appear 

Like  that  of  Narcissus,  in  the  deep  well : 

When  he  died  of  love,  as  old  fables  tell. 

Tall  clifTs  arose  in  majestic  state, 

With  far  blue  hills  to  the  heav'ns  elate  ; 

And  many  a  wild  sequestered  cove 

Sliot  far  in  the  land,  with  woods  above 

Broad  waving;  and  rocks  and  craggy  steeps, 

That,  like  giants,  o'erlooked  the  placid  deeps. 

The  Pine  towered  high  with  its  column  vast. 

And  its  sombre  shade  o'er  the  waters  cast ; 

The  proud  Oak  stood  in  iuiperial  might ; 

The  weeping  Ash  waved  its  branches  slight : 

The  Cypress  black,  and  the  Service  white, 

Each  lent  a  charm  to  adorn  the  night. 

And  many  a  beauteous  garden  slope. 

Whose  blossoms  bloomed  rich  with  sweet  summer's  hope — 

Intermingled  with  flow'rs  of  varying  hues, 

That  balm  on  the  breath  of  night  did  efl'use — 

Were  seen  thro'  each  op'ning  the  rocks  between, 

With  meadows  and  vales  of  the  softest  green. 

Those  rocks  were  all  wreathed  with  Eglantine, 

With  the  wilding  Rose  did  Clematis  twine  ; 


282  SIGHT   STOKM. 

Tlie  Elms  were  enclasped  by  the  curling  Vine, 
Tiiat  in  broad  festoons  ,high  overhead, 
A  gentle  gloom  o'er  the  verdure  shed  ; 
Th'  Acacia  unfolded  its  leaflets  green, 
In  the  still  moonshine  its  form  was  seen — 
So  light,  so  graceful — the  shade  it  tlirew 
Scarce  darkened  the  grass  all  wet  with  dew. 
With  golden  clusters  the  Cytisus  stood, 
In  the  wavelcss  waters  its  image  viewed  : 
Tlie  Lilac  pale  with  Syringa  vied — • 
In  sisterly  sweetness,  side  by  side, 
Intermingling  blooms  by  the  moonbeam  dyed, 
As  pure  as  snow  in  their  stainless  pride. 
All  around  in  vernal  beauty  attired 
With  love  and  sweet  hope  the  heart  Inspired : 
For  Spring'had  arriv'd,and  o'er  the  earth 
Strewed  her  buds  and  blossoms  of  fairest  birth  ; 
And  now  was  just  yielding  to  Summer's  sway, 
And  rosy  smiled,  ere  she  sped  away. 
The  birds  close  crouched  'neath  the  leafy  boughs, 
Or  waked  but  to  plight  fond,  faithful  vows  ; 
The  Nightingale  breathed  its  love-lorn  strain : 
The  Ring-dove  at  times  was  heard  to  complain, 
As  she  woke  from  the  dreams  of  her  dewy  rest, 
And  took  a  short  flight  from  her  peaceful  nest. 
For  the  hour  was  so  calm,  so  fair,  and  so  bright, 
To  give  all  to  sleep  were  to  wrong  the  night. 

II. 
Taranto's  broad,  and  beauteous  bay. 
All  mirror-like  in  its  stillness  lay, 


^'IGHT   STORM.  283 

O'ercanopieJ  by  the  starry  sky, 

That  in  gorgeous  glory  outspread  on  liigh ; 

And  each  star,  that  bodscked  that  pavilion  proud, 

Intensely  blazed,  undimmed  by  a  cloud  ; 

The  azure  dome  did  its  roof  unfold, 

With  resplendent  hangings  of  blue  and  gold  : 

Tliat  blue  was  of  pure  paradisal  tint ; 

Tliat  gold,  of  lieav'n's  own  drossless  mint  : 

And  each  was  softened  by  that  blest  clime, 

And  all  was  sweet,  yet  no  less  sublime. 

All — all  was  beauty, and  love,  and  bliss: 

The  earth  met  the  heav'ns  with  ambrosial  kiss — 

And  the  heav'ns  breathed  love  o'er  eartii's  fraorant  breast  ; 

And  both  were  beauteous,  and  both  were  blest. 

m. 
The  solemn  voice  of  liie  midnight  hour 
Was  heard  from  Taranto's  tallest  tovvV; 
And  with  startling  sound,  on  the  list'ning  ear, 
Fell  its  warning  notes  vibratino-  near. 
Tho'  unheeded,  too  oft,  Time  speeds  by  day. 
On  feathery  foot,  away,  away — 
Yet  with  thrilling  voice,  and  impressive  tone, 
He  speaks  to  the  heart  at  midnight  lone. 
Ere  an  hour  had  sped  its  noiseless  flioht, 
A  change  had  come  o'er  the  beauteous  night ; 
Her  brow  grew  dark,  and  a  sable  dress 
Of  gloom  himg  over  her  loveliness. 
The  stars  grew  pale,  and  the  moon  grew  dim ; 
The  sullen  skies  waxed  lurid  and  grim  ; 


2S4  NIGHT  STOKM. 

The  f\icc  of  the  heavens  showed  ghastly  ant)  drear, 
Like  the  visage  of  Death  when  lie  frowns  full  near  : 
A  fearful  sound  o'er  tlie  forests  passed, 
Tho'  stirred  not  a  breatli  of  th'  impending  blast ; 
From  the  distant  mountain  a  dread  voice  came — 
A  tone  of  terror  that  hath  no  name  : 
The  shuddering  waves  uprose  from  their  bed, 
As  roused  by  the  call  of  the  mighty  dead, 
Over  vv'hose  bones,  for  many  an  age. 
Dark  Ocean  hath  rolled  in  his  ruthless  rage. 
'"  Then  came  the  Storm,  in  its  fury's  might, 

And  stamped  with  horror  the  brov/  of  Night : 
It  swept  o'er  the  land,  and  it  plouglied  the  sea— 
And  Ocean  arose  in  stern  majesty ; 
And  asked  with  awful,  earth-shaking  tone, 
Why  the  storm  invaded  liis  billowy  throne. 
The  storm  heeded  not ;  but,  with  tenfold  force, 
Impelled  the  waves  in  their  headlong  course  ; 
Till  phrensicdand  mad,  'neath  its  iron  scourge. 
Each  doth  on  other  infuriate  urge ', 
In  passion  fierce  to  the  heav'ns  arise, 
As  though  they  laughed  to  scorn  the  skies  ; 
Then  along  th^|r  rush  with  deaf'ning  roar. 
And  lash  the  rocks  and  invade  the  shore  : 
The  mountains  re-echo  v.ith  voices  vast ; 
While  the  storm  speeds  on,  blast  upon  blast — 
Blast  upon  blast,  and  surge  upon  surge — 
Sweeping  afar  to  the  broad  earth's  verge. 
The  pride  of  the  forest  is  rent  and  shattered, 
Huge  trunks  upturned,  and  their  branches  scattered 


NIGHT  STORM.  285 

The  Pine  lies  prone  ;  the  imperial  Oak 

Lies  shivered  as  rent  by  lightning^s  stroke; 

The  tall  tow'rs  shudder  and  quake  and  reel, 

While  their  bells  ring  out  a  dismal  peal; 

Rocks  topple  down  from  their  headlong  height, 

And  with  new  horrors  alarm  the  night. 

With  their  consort  vines  the  elms  are  upcast. 

And  whirled  like  straws  by  the  demon  blast ; 

The  gardens  all  stripped  of  their  loveliness, 

While  fiend-like  forwards  the  wild  gusts  press. 

Madly,  madly,  along,  away, — 

No  limit,  no  pause,  no  stop,  no  stay — 

Rush  the  roaring  waves  in  phrensy  bJind, 

Lashed,  goaded  and  scourged  by  tli'  infuriate  wind. 

Loud  speaks  the  thunder  o'er  land  and  sea. 

Like  the  echoed  voice  of  eternity ; 

The  lightning  flashes  upon  the  sight 

Its  tremendous  sword  of  matchless  might. 

Earth  frowns  at  tli'  heavens,  and  th'  heavens  with  a  frown 

Of  deeper  darkness  look  grimly  down; 

And  each  is  so  black,  the  beholders  gaze 

Blindly  at  both,  till  the  lightnings  blaze — 

Then  view  all  around  such  a  fearful  sight, 

They  close  their  eyes  'gainst  that  piercing  light. 

IV. 

None  slept  that  night — save  the  shrouded  dead, 
Who  lay  unmoved  in  their  earthy  bed  : 
None  slept  that  night ;  and  many  a  grave 
Was  found  beneath  the  billowy  wave. 
And  when  morning  came,  the  coast  was  all  strewecl 

26 


28ft  M0R5IHff. 

With  corses,  and  wrecks  ;  and  fragments  rude 
Of  many  a  gallant  ship,  whose  pride 
Full  long  had  braved  the  tempest  and  tide  : 
And  for  years  was  remembered  that  awful  night, 
That  began  so  lovely,  so  culm  and  so  bright. 

MORNING  ON  THE  COAST  OF  CARAMANIA. 


Ho  !  \vl:at  a  lovely  scene  1 — the  Hue  waves  break 

Along  the  winding  shore,  where  gjring's  young  fxwrets  wfekc  •, 

How  verdantly,  above  the  azure  tide, 

Yen  s}lvanshcre  oYrLangs  the  waters  wide  ! 

While  birds  of  dazzling  plcmage,  'meng  the  trees. 

Pour  their  svreet  scngs  vjcn  ;he  mcrnirg  breeze. 

Iiow  soft  the  swell  of  incense-breathing  ocean, 

Where  heave  the  v.'liitc-winged  barks,  witli  life  like  mcticn  ! 

Wliile  busy  beats  with  glitt'ring  streamers  gay. 

And  crews  of  many-color.rcd  garb,  hold  en  their  way ; 

Hportinglike  sea-birds  mid  the  sparkling  spray. 

Turbans  and  caftans,  yellow,  red,  and  green, 

Intensely  bright  beneath  the  sun  are  seen  ; 

Ho  v.-anr.,  so  rich,  so  radiant  to  the  eye, 

As  tho'  the  rainbow  shed  those  colours  from  en  high. 

See,  with  what  graceful  curve  yen  shiv'ring  sail 

Sweeps  round,  and  broadens  tc  the  frcsh'ning  gal-?. 

The  tall  polacca,  with  its  snew-u'hite  wings, 

Like  a  proud  swan  with  airy  motion  springs ; 

And  rules  the  waters  with  so  gentle  sway. 

The  waves  all  smile,  and  on  their  breast  gladly  her  form  ccnvev. 

Tn  terrac'd  tiers,  rank  upon  rank  above. 


TO   THE   STJX.  287 


Houses  flat- roofed  o'erhang  yon  tufted  grove ; 
Where  Mosques  their  slender  minarets  display, 
With  domes  that  glitter  in  the  morning  ray. 
The  Lycian  hills  are  gilt  with  gold  of  day- 
All  gloriously  the  skies  unfold  their  blue, 
And  paradisal  plain,  of  heav'nliest  hue ; 
In  wavy  clouds  the  curling  mists  ascend, 
The  silvery  streamlets  from  the  mountains  tend : 
Wiiiie,  from  t!ie  brow  of  yon  o'erhanging  height, 
The  foamy  torrent  falls  in  masses  white. 
How  fresh  the  hour  !  'tis  as  the  dawn  of  Heav'n  ! 
Surely  its  bairn  was  as  a  foretaste  giv'n, 
Of  that  bright,  beauteous,  everlasting  morn, 
That  dawns  upon  the  soul  to  nobler  life  new-born. 

TO  THE  SUK. 


Great  Sun  !  thou'rt  still  to  me  a  olorious  sight, 

At  morn,  at  noon,  at  close  of  cheerful  day  : 
Thou  bringest  beauty,  loveliness,  and  light. 

To  Earth  ;  that  darkly  droops  when  thou'rt  away. 
'Tis  as  the  dawn  of  Ilcav'n,  to  view  thee  rise  ; 

And  o'er  the  mountains,  and  blue  ocean  vast — 
That  lifts  its  head  to  greet  thee  in  the  skies — 

Thy  burning  flood  of  gold  to  see  thee  cast. 
Oh  !  when  I  steep  me  in  thy  rays  divine. 

At  blush  of  morn,  I  feel  my  spirit  soar 
To  Him  who  bade  thee  thus  supremely  shine  : 

E'en  to  His  throne,  and  grateful  there  adore. 


288  TO  TIME.      SOLITUDE. 

(Jh  !  that  those  feelings  would  forever  last, 
To  cheer  this  heart  till  life's  brief  hour  be  past ! 

TO  TIME. 


Time's  a  possession  that  doth  quickly  flee  ; 
With  wings  of  stronger,  more  impetuous  sway. 
Than  th'  eagle's,  soaring  to  the  sun  away. 

Tlie  present  moments  giv'n  to  thee,  and  me  : 

All  beyond  that  no  mortal  eye  can  see. 

Down  drooping  to  the  earth,  our  forms  decay, 

Daily  and  hourly,  and  futurity 
Seems  ready  to  unveil  its  untried  world  ;  ' 
Death  rides  alono-.  with  sable  flaff  unfurled — 
Myriads  of  mortals  having  made  his  prey, 

Still  claims  an  uncontested  victory  ; 

While,  o'er  the  brink  of  dread  Eternity, 

Unthinking  Man  dreams  on,  and  on,  and  on. 

Oh  !  why  will  he  not  wake,  ere  life's  last  sun  hath  shone 

SOLITUDE. 


Deep  Solitude,  they  say,  is  hard  to  bear. 
I've  found  it  so,  in  Winter  ;  when  the  day 
Was  clouded  witli  dun  darkness,  and  the  wind 

Howled,  like  the  very  genius  of  despair  ; 

When  friends  and  relatives  were  far  away — 
Which  ties  so  closely  round  this  heart  are  twined ; 

Then  I've  felt  lonely.     But  when  dusky  Night 
Drew  her  dark  veil  above  the  sleeping  earth  ; 


TO  HOMER.       TO    YlRGJt.  289 

When  cheerful  blazed  the  fire,  and  gladsome  light 
Shone  thro'  the  room  ;  while  gaily  ticked  the  clock, 
And  chirped  the  crickets  round — a  mirthful  flock : 

I  felt  not  of  society  the  dearth. 
The  dead  were  near  me  too — a  pleasant  thought ! 
Good  books  and   wise,  I  mean  ;  that  ne'er  too  dear  were 
bought. 

TO  HOMER. 


Homer  !  thou  king  of  poets !  (not  the  prince  ;) 
Thou  mighty  monarch  of  the  living  lyre — 
Lord  of  undying  verse,  immortal  fire  I 

That  this  thou  art,  three  thousand  years  evince. 

Nor  older  art  thou,  in  men's  minds,  than  when 
Thy  verse  first  charmed  th'  enthusiastic  race ; 
Who  held  in  arts,  and  arms,  the  proudest  place. 

I  ope  thy  wondrous  work,  and  read  again 
What  mv  vouth  drank  in  with  delighted  ear : 

Still  fresh,  and  new,  and  glorious  is  the  strain  ; 
Unchanged  by  time  its  beauties  all  appear. 

Methinks  thou  dost  surpass  the  tuneful  train, 
Fi'cn  as  Pelides  did  the  warrior-throng  : 
As  matchless  ho  in  deeds,  so  thou  in  song. 

TO  VIRGIL. 


Shepherd  of  Mantua  I  I  may  not  blame 
Thy  polished  style,  so  elegantly  chaste  ; 

25'' 


290  TO   DANTE. 

Thy  simple  majesty,  with  beauty  graced  : 
Thou,  too,  hast  won  a  well-deserved  fame. 
I  read  thee  when  a  boy ;  and  still  the  same 

Thou  seemest  to  my  soul,  mine  eye,  mine  ear ; 
Correct,  pure,  equal — but  alas  !  too  tame, 

For  epic  flight,  thy  spirit  doth  appear. 
Yet  hast  thou  genius — fire  ;  art  skilled  to  wield 
Thy  weapons  -.veil — but  in  another  iield  : 

Witness  thy  Georgics  :  as  a  stream  of  clear 
And  living  waters,  rolls  their  verse  along. 

Svveet  Bard  !  ne'er  may  the  laurel  leaf  be  sere, 
That  crowns  thee  Master  of  didactic  songf. 


&■ 


TO  DAIsTE. 


Satuenine  Dante !  gloomy,  stern,  austere : 

Dusky  as  Erebus,  a  blackness  fell 

O'er  all  thy  page,  depainting  lurid  hell — 
Its  mocking  fiends,  and  sounds  and  sights  of  fear. 
Albeit  I  praise  not  thy  contorted  style, 

Thy  solemn  grandeur  doth  my  spirit  love; 

Thy  dark  sublimity  my  soul  approve. 
Yet  seems  there  somewhat  wanting,  all  the  while 

I  pore  upon  tliy  page  ;  a  lofty  sense 

Of  innate  po7v"r — the  proud  magnificence 
Of  epic  daring — that,  in  glorious  song, 
Sweeps,  as  a  mighty  fiood,  the  bard  along 

On  passion's  swelling  waves  : — the  eloquence 
Poured  from  the  soul  by  fceUng  deep,  and  high,  and  strong- 


TO  TASSO.      TO   MILTON.  291 


TO  TASSO. 


Bard  of  Surrento  !  thou  dost  well  deserve 

The  Poet's  name.     I  do  not  deem  ihee  Jlrsl — 
Nor  of  the  first :  from  this  I  may  not  swerve. 

Yet  art  thou  great  ;  tho'  Boileau's  self  should  burst. 

Thou  hadst  the  Poet's  soul,  and  noble  thirst 
For  deathless  fame  :  but  not  the  wondrous  spell, 
Whose  sorcery  deep  hearts  recognise  full  well ; 

That  far  above  tlie  fleeting  things  of  time 

Uplifts  the  spirit,  in  its  trance  sublime. 
Thy  pictures  breathe  the  form  of  wild  romance, 
And  chivalry's  enthusiastic  trance  ; 

Ennobling  both  the  reader  and  the  rhyme. 
Romance,  too,  chequered  thine  eventful  life  : 
Would  thou  hadst  had  thy  Leonore  to  wife  ! 

TO  MILTON. 


MiLTOx!  I  foel  thy  worth  :  yet  well  I  trow, 

Thou  art  not  loved  as  other  sons  of  sonor. 

Magnificent  thou  art — sublimely  strong  ; 
And  graspest  heav'n,and  earth,  and  hell;  as  tlio' 

Thou  wert  a  seraph,  and  not  fleshly  wight. 

And.  trust  me,  I  have  felt  intense  delight — 
While  that  the  visions  rose  upon  my  view, 

By  thee  first  brought  before  our  mortal  sight. 
Yet  must  I  speak  the  truth  :  and  this  is  true — 

Thou  lackcst  somewhat  of  Homeric  fire  ; 


392  TO  SHAKSPEARE.      TO  BYRON. 

The  lightning-like  activity  of  soul, 

That  shoots  thro'  all  ;  and  stirs  and  moves  the  whole  : 

Th'  electric  energy,  that  must  inspire 
All  those,  wlio  fain  would  reach  high  Poetry's  great  goal. 

TO  SHAKSPEARE. 


Son  of  the  wayward  Muse  !  whose  visions  wild 

Have  more  of  Heav'n,  than  aught  we  find  on  Earth  ; 
Sure  thine  were  dreams  that  none  of  mortal  birth 

E'er  viewed  bofoje,  or  fancy's  eye  b3g  lileJ. 

Strange  sounds  of  beauty  echoed  from  each  string 
(Like  angel's  voices,)  of  thine  harp  of  gold  : 

Bright  forms  of  loveliness,  upon  the  wing, 

Came  as  from  paradise,  as  thou  didst  sing  : 
And  Nature  did  her  fairest  scenes  unfold. 

Of  the  deep  human  heart,  ivistin^live  lore 

Was  thine;  anl  hrJit  thri  trie  J  the  Epie  field, 
Not  to  great  Homer's  self  thy  fame  would  yield  : 

Two  Homers  had  tliere  been:  as  his  of  yore, 

Thine  was  the  spell  of  pcw'r,  Nature's  exhaustlesss'.ore. 

TO  BYRON. 


ByRON  !  what  hidst  thou  been,  if  that  t'ly  soul — 

Exalted  and  ennobled  by  the  fire. 

That  comes  from  Heav'n.  and  doth  to  Ileav'n  aspire — 
Scorning  .n:!re  earthly  piss'o.i's  mil  CDntrol, 

Had  strung  in  Virtue's  cause  thy  deep-ton&J  lyre  '■ 
Mighty  of  spirit,  master  of  a  pow'r 


TO   CIIAXrSRTON.  203 


Tiiat  vv.ikaJ  in  all  th3  Poat's  wild  dssira  ; 
How  in  void  vanity  life's  transiant  hour, 
And  nature's  gifts  were  squandered  !  As  a  fl lod. 

Poured  fro;n  t!i3  hills  on  winter's  darkest  day., 

Sweeping  the  herds  an  J  foldid  flocks  awiy — 
Thus,  in  a  torrent,  o'er  the  wis3  and  good 

Svvept  down  t'ly  Vi^rse.     That  flood  is  past  for  aye: 
And  thou,  alas  !  (vvhate'er  bayond  the  tOinb) — 
Dying,  be-jueathedst  Mm  bat  d3ath,  daspiir,  and  gloom. 

TO  CIIATTERTOlf, 


Rash  boy  !  thine  act  insane,  and  early  grave, 
Demand  oar  pitying  tears  and  heart-felt  grief: 
Thine  was  a  mournful  lot,  and  dark,  tho'  brief. 

Poor  torn-np  flow'r,  to-jssd  rudely  on  life's  wave  ! 

Young^yoang,  yet  dsad  !  Genius  !  is  this  thy  dow'r  ? 
How  oft  doit  thou  of  hearts  tho  hopes  deceive, 
The  sliroud  of  cherished  expectations  weave  ! 

O  bland  betrayer!  with  what  wizard  pow'r, 

In  sunbeams  clad,  thou  comest  at  the  hour, 

When  life's  glad  promise  most  our  hearts  believe : 

Yet — should  we  blame  thee?  No  !  thou  art  a  gift. 
Which  rightly  used— with  holy  love  combined — 
To  work  great  good  for  mortals,  was  designed  : 

Thau  unto  highest  H  jav'n  the  soul  sublime  dost  lift. 


394  TO   DR.   JOHNSON.      TRANSCE^^)ENTAL1SM. 

TO  DR.  SAMUEL  JOHNSOX. 


Monarch  of  luinJ  !  tlion  intellectual  sage  ! 

Thou  friend  to  wisdoin,  virtue,  and  to  man  ! 
Well  pleased  I  ponder  o'er  thy  valued  page  ; 

Thy  sterling  sense  with  all  my  spirit  scan. 
Still,  fiom  thy  throne  of  thought,  thou  didst  dispense 
Treasures  of  wisdom,  oracles  of  sense  ; 

With  truth  severe  chastise  an  erring  age  ; 

And  emptiness  of  folly  still  assuage. 
How  poor,  contrasted  with  a  soul  like  thine, 
The  silken  slave  who  bowed  at  fashion's  shrine — 

Vain  Chesterfield — the  bauble  of  an  hour  ! 
Trifler  upon  the  brink  of  the  dark  wave. 

Whose  depth  all  mortal  things  doth  soon  devour : 
Still  worshipping  the  V/orkl  eVn  o"er  tb.e  yav/ning  grave  ! 

OX  TRANSCENDENTALISM. 


Oh  !  Transcendentalism,  in  verse  or  prose, 

(That  word's  as  bad  as  \tquoliU\cum.^) 
Is  what  I  loathe,  abhor,  detest,  despise  : 

For  transcendental  writings,  all  and  some, 
My  detetestation  I  cannot  disguise. 
'^Inania  captant"  each,  and  all  of  those. 
For  whom  true  nature  never  could  suffice  ; 

Who,  seeking  most  original  to  be, 

O'erlook  the  charm  of  truth — simplicity. 
This  fault  hath  marred  full  many  a  one  ;  whose  strains 

Slight  live  a  thousand  years,  wcr't  but  for  this  ; 


TERZA   RIMA.      HEXAMETER.  295 

For  what  they  seek  to  find  with  so  ranch  pains, 
Forsaking  the  sole  way,  they're  sure  to  miss. 
Nono  like  obscurity,  anJ  air-spun  fancies  ; 
This  Transcendentalism  no  heart  entrances. 

ON  TERZA  IIIMA,  AND  SONNETS. 


O  Terza  Ri?.ia  !  puzzle  to  the  Poet, 

By  Dante  much  beloved  but  not  by  aie  ; 

The  Bard  Irom  a!'  suc'.i  fetters  should  bo  free : 
Li  'jerty's  sweet,  and  I  shall  ne'er  forego  it. 

The  Sonnet,  too,  's  vexations ;  intertwining; 

With  some  small  sense,  oft  much  Petrarchan  wiiining. 

Strange  that  a  Bard  should  ever  think  of  shining 
Condemned  to  coop  his  thoughts  in  fourteen  lines  ; 
Oft,  when  to  wr'.ie  a  sonnet  she  designs, 

Tily  wanton  jliisc  exceeds  that  scanty  measure  ; 

That  is,  Vvdion  she's  entirely  at  her  leisure, 

And  gives  her  wing  free  scope  with  purest  pleasure  : 
High  over  earth,  she  speeds  her  flight  afar, 
Chainless  as  winds  that  sweep  the  mountain  are. 

ON  THE  READING  OF  HEXAMETER  YERSE. 


I  DO  not  greatly  love  Hexameter ; 

As  by  the  school-boy  read,  it  is  sad  stuff: 
Aye  !  and  in  Colleges — unless  I  err — 

One  still  should  cry  'Jam  saiis'',  now  enough  ! 


296  ON   FKILOLOGY. 

Recite  it  as  lis  seanHcd,  and  tfcen  you'll  ses 

It  is  true  verse  :  Eot  so,  read  otherwise — 

'Tis  poetry  in  a  burlesque  disguise. 
Ilad  I  a  hundred  pupils,  they  should  be 

Taught  to  read  iiiClre,  (whether  Greek  or  Latin.) 
With  deference  duo  to  time,  and  qt;antity, 
And  syllables,  as  they  arc  short  or  long  : 
Trust  me  all  other  modes  arc  surely  wrong. 

Oh  !  it  is  horrible,  to  hear  a  brat,  in 
The  things  called  academicals,  spout  song 
As  'twere  pure  prose !  His  teachers  sure  were  bhnd  ; 

Or  born,  at  least,  r:nder  a  perverse  planet. 
Why  learned  heprosodij,  I  ne'er  could  find  : 

If  verse  ne'er  taught  to  read — what  use  to  scan  it  ? 

ON  PPIILOLOGY. 


Pit[LOLOgy's  a  noble  tiling,  no  doubt ; 

Tho'  useless  oft,  like  many  another  'ology  : 
(The  which  to  prove  I'll  mention  but  astrology.') 

In  fact,  I'd  ratlicr  be  an  eel,  or  trout — 

Or  live  out  all  my  days  within  a  hollow  tree  ; 

Than  to  be  deluged,  from  a  leaden  spout, 

Wither.dless  histories  of  every  word 

We  speak  :  which  plan  if  any  cheese  to  follow,  he 

?Tlay,  for  my  part  ;  with  some  small  blame  incurred. 

Give  me  the  knowledge — never  bought  too  dear — 
Which  makes  us  better,  wiser,  abler  men  : 
But  long  discussions,  as  to  ivliere  and  iclien 


TO   HIS   FKTEND.  297 

Such  and  such  tongues  were  spoken —  I  can't  bear. 

I  wodd  not  give  an  onion's  cast-ofF  tunic, 

For  all  the  grubbed-up  roots  of  Erse,  Phenician,  Runic. 

TO  A  FRIEND  PHILOLOGICALLY  DEVOTED. 

(the  editor  of  these  works.) 


Feiend  !  if  I've  wronged  thee,  or  have  been  to  blame, 

Descanting  thi^s  upon  thy  love  Philology ; 
All  bad  intention  do  I  here  disclaim  : 
"  Plato's  my  friend  ;  but  Trutli" — you  know  the  rest ; 
I  cannot  swerve  from  her  supreme  behest. 

Oh  !  would  thou  hadst  but  cottoned  to  Conchology  I 
ThaCs  useful — Demonology's  the  same  : 

I  cannot  give  my  praises  to  Psychology — 
To  recommend  it  I  am  not  inclined  ; 
It  seems,  at  best,  but  groping  of  the  blind. 
What !  was  the  world  of  Facts  too  cold,  or  tame. 

That  thou  didst  leave  it  for  the  world  of  Words  ? 

Would  I  had  soaring  pinions,  like  a  bird's ; 
Or  speed  of  carriages  upon  a  rail-road! 

Then  from  the  Wordy  World  afar  I'd  flee, 

And  make  my  home  in  the  great  World  of  Fact  ; 
All  duties  pay,  which  I,  tho'  weak  and  frail,  owed : 

I'd  wisely  think,  and  not  ignobly  act. 
Words  are  most  useful  ,  as  expressing  thought; 
But,  in  all  else,  I  hold  them  still  at  nought. 


298  ruiEND^riiP  of  the  \vorld.    soarixgs  aloft. 

THE  FRIENDSHIP  OF  THE  WORLD. 


Oh  !  what  a  changeful  world  is  this  we  dwell  in  ! 

New  sights,  new  scenes,  new  fashions,  and  new  faces. 

How  oft  a  late-found  friend  the  old  displaces. 
How  mutable  arc  some,  there  is  no  telling. 
Some  treat  a  friend  e'en  as  a  thread-bare  coed — 

Aside  it's  cast,  when  it  has  lost  its  nap : 

So  when  one  meets  affliction,  or  mi.shap, 
Thug  is  he  left  alone,  to  sink  or  float. 
The  dog  is  faithful  :  feed  him  once,  or  twice — 

He'll  owe  you  then  a  debt  of  gratitude, 

Not  to  be  paid  thro'  life,     But  iVIan's  more  shrewd  : 
Serve  hi77i — and  he'll  forget  it  in  a  trice. 

Yet  some  I've  known,  and  may  meet  many  more  ; 

That  treasure  up  hind  deeds  in  their  hearts'  inmost  core. 

SOARINGS  ALOFT. 


Ascend,  my  Soul !  aloft,  in  soarings  high  : 
This  world  hath  had  from  thee  sufficient  share 
Of  thoughtful  heed — considerative  care. 

Spread  thy  strong  wing,  and  mount  above  the  sky  ; 

Where  the  bright  stars  their  paths  of  glory  trace  : 

Where  wander  thro'  illimitable  space 
Ten  thousand  suns,  and  weave  their  mystic  dance. 
Come  cleave  with  me  the  crystalline  expanse  -j 

The  deep  abyss,  that  never  line  hath  sounded — 

The  mighty  ocean,  that  no  shore  hath  bounded  : 
And  measure  yast  creation  with  thy  glance. 


tfS  OLD  AGE.      To  IKELANDj  399 

What  wonders  burst  on  the  delighted  view-^ 

Infinity  of  marvels,  ever  new  ! 

Bless  God  for  all  His  works — render  Him  homage  due. 

ON  OLD  AGE. 


Old  Age,  with  stealthy  foOt  creeps  slowly  oii. 
Youth  lightly  canters  by,  on  mettled  steed  ; 
Strong  Manhood  stalks  with  circumspective  heed, 

Lookmg  before — behind — yet  soon  is  gone  ; 

Then  wrinkled  Eld  comes  limping  withTiis  crutch, 
Bidding  our  earthly  hopes  flee  far  away. 
And  droops  down  to  the  dust  in  quick  decay  : 

Yet  let  not  this  afflict  us  overmuch. 

As  Youth  to  Infancy  doth  still  succeed  ; 

Manhood  to  Youths  and  then  in  turn  gives  place 
To  hoary  Age  advancing  witli  sure  pace  ; 

So  doth  immortal  Life  that  supersede. 

So  man  not  dies  :  but,  'yond  the  dreary  tomb, 
A  nobler  lot  is  his — a  youth  of  endless  bloom. 

TO  IRELAND. 

1. 
Iesne  !  land  of  beauty,  soul,  and  song  ! 

Borne  over  ocean  ;  back  I  look  to  thee. 
Thy  far  blue  mountains,  where  I  wandered  long, 

Lift  as  a  cloud  their  heads  above  the  sea. 

Wild  as  the  wind  that  sweeps  those  summits  free, 
Swell  o'er  my  soul  fond  mem'ries  of  the  past ; 


300  TO  IRELAND, 

IScencs  of  my  childhood,  that  depictured  be 
Within  this  heart,  in  colours  that  shall  last. 
Once  more,  farewell !  hark  !  how  the  hollow  sounding  blast 

11. 
Blends  loudly  with  the  thunder  of  the  deep, 

That  booms  around  our  bark,  with  sullen  roar  ; 
On,  with  the  arrow's  flight,  our  course  we  keep  : 

One  look,  one  longing  look,  to  that  loved  shore — 

'Tis  gone,  and  meets  the  struggling  sight  no  more  ! 
Now  nought  but  ocean,  and  the  sky,  is  seen ; 

Flashes  the  surf  around  th'  impetuous  prore: 
Once  more,  farewell !  Hope  !  let  thy  star  serene, 
Bright,  o'er  the  bill'wy  deep,  diffuse  its  sparkling  sliean. 

m. 
On,  to  that  land  beyond  the  western  tide, 

Where  strangers  find  a  home,  and  oft  a  grave  ; 
Bright  be  thy  beam  above  the  waters  wide. 

Hope  I  thy  soft  raj^  to  cheer  ou?  course  we  crave  ; 

The  sad  sojour  ner  on  th'Ailantic  wave 
Much  needs  thy  balmy  smile,  to  glad  his  heart : 

Oh  !  shall  that  heavy  heart  be  Sorrow's  slave  ? 
Arise,  my  Soul!  not  desolate  tliou  art : 
Friends,  country,  gone — thy  heav'nly  Friend'  will  ne'er  depart. 

IV. 

'      Thou  wilderness  of  waters  1  as  I  gaze 
Above  thy  bosom  witii  an  anxiaus  eye, 
Where  the  blue  tract  of  ocean,  thro'  the  haze 
Of  eve,,  seems  blending  witii  the  sa]>phire  sky — 


TO  IRELAND.  301 

Methinks  I  view  the  land  from  v/hich  I  fly 
Spread,  like  elysium,  round,  its  meadows  fair  ; 

Green  fiekis  and  groves,  and  mountains  stern  and  high ; 
Valleys  of  verdure  ;  lakes  that  sparkle  there, 
With  streamlets  from  those  hills  that  shoot  aloft  in  air. 

V. 

But  chief  thy  daughters— with  their  sunny  smile. 

Their  souls  all  softness,  and  their  hearts  all  love  ; 
Their  ever-varying  glance,  and  artless  wile. 

The  gen'rous  passions  that  their  minds  still  move  ; 

Kind  looks,  that  cheer  the  fallen,  not  reprove — 
Erin  !  thy  daughters — lovely  as  thy  land, 

Pure  as  the  snow,  and  tender  as  the  dove — 
Vision  of  beauty  !  now  before  me  stand  ; 
Waving  a  last  flirewell,  with  each  white,  fairy  hand. 

VI. 

Thy  sons — with  souls  and  eyes  effnlgingfive, 
Whose  gen'rous  blood  runs  riot  in  their  veins; 

Wliose  daring  deeds  shall  not  with  them  expire  ; 
Than  whom  a  nobler  race  not  Earth  contains  : 
Bold,  ardent,  brave — witness  the  battle-plains 

Where  Weilesley  fought  in  well  contested  strife — 
Wild  as  the  wave  ;  with  hearts  where  passion  reigns 

Fiercely,  yet  still  with  tend'rest  feelings  rife  : 

Farewell  to  thes?,  to  all— the  friends  of  dawning  Ufe  I 


26* 


302  FALMTRA. 

PALMYRA. 


Whose  are  these  walls,  mid  sands  and  deserts  rude,. 
In  wide  decay,  magnificently  strewed  ? 
Those  columns,  tliat  uplift  their  Ibrms  sublime, 
The  giant  victors  of;  unconq'ring  Time  ? 
Those  palaces  ?  who  Teared,  amid  the  wild, 
Y-on. marble  mount— pillars  on  pillars  piled— 
V>''ork  of  long  years,  which  ages  have  not  wrecked  ? 
Who  badetliem  rise— what  princely  architect?. 
t-Hran«Te— that  where  Nature  iAiows  b'ut  dust  and  death, 
Whore  heaves  the  sand  before  the  whirlwind's  breath  ; 
Where  stunted  shrubs  live  but  to  droop,  and  die, 
And  sickens  Earth  beneath  a  burning  sky;- 
Where  the  cool  v/aters  fleet  before  the  ray. 
That  drinks  the  desert  dry  ere  noon  of  day  ; 
Where  barrenness  is  stamped  upon  the  soil  — 
Nought  to  supply  man's  need,'  or  crown  liis  toil. 

The  plains  afford, how  strange  'tis  to  our  eyes, 

'To  see  this  marvel  of  his  skill  arise  ;- 
Tliis  wonder  of  his  pow'r,  his  might,  his  skiH;. 
In  majesty  of  grace  surviving  sti'j'! 

OMan,  thou  mystery  !  immortal  niinJ, 
111  senseless  clay's  ignoble  clod  confined  ! 
Majestic  triUer  !  trembling  o'er  the  tomb. 
Thou  buildest  mighty  works — alas  !  for  whom  ?' 
Thy  spirit  may  embrace  eternity  ; 
But  brief's  the  time  on  earth  allotted  thee  : 
E'en  ere  the  polished  stone  contracts  a  rust, 
The  hand  that  bade  it  shine  is  empty  dust. 


P^LMYKA^  303 

Thou  breath  !  thou  vapour,  fleeting  as  the  wind 
That  speeds  away,  nor  leaves  a  trace  beliind  I 

Cit}'  of  Pahns  !  upon  thy  solitude, 
With  no  unhallowed  feelings,  I  intrude. 
A  stranger  from  afar — my  footstep  falls 
Lonely  and  sad,  within  tliy  marble  halls  ;- 
My  S3 If-con versing  words,  iipon  mine  ear 
Echoed  from  pillared  courts,  sound  strange  and  drearT 
Blit  from  thy  mighty  fan?s,  and  temples  proud, 
There  comes  a  solemn  voice — not  high — not  loud  ; 
But  speaking  to  the  heart  with  the  deep  tone, 
Wherewith  the  grave  makes  its  stern  secrets  knovvn^. 
Thou  tellest  of  a  time,  when  thou  wast  gay — 
Of  the  far  glories  of  a  dist  in'  day  : 
Of  wild  ambition,  soaring  in  its  flight. 
Of  hopes  that  seemed  too  fair  to  dread  a  bligr.t ; 
Of  beauty  and  of  bliss,  the  joy  of  life, 
Of  passions  fierce,  of  anger's  deadly  strife ; 
Of  learning  and  of  wisdom — sophists  sage — 
Of  lettered  pride,  the  critic's  pi^ngent  page  ;: 
Of  sceptred  rule,  the  warrior  and  the  priest ; 
Of  love,  for  human  hearts  the  cliarm  not  least: 
Of  these  thou  tellest  me— of  all  that  gave 
Life  to  thy  streets  ;  then  whisp'rest  thou — 'The  Grave  '.'■ 
The  Crave — the  Grave  that  beauty  and  that  bliss, 
Those  hearts  and  hopes,  absorbed  in  its  abyss. 
All,  all  within  the  dark,  th'  eno-ulfino-  tomb. 
Have  sunk,  and  found  of  earthly  things  thetloom, 
Ail,  all  are  gone ;  and  thou,  in  lonely  state, 
Mourn'st  mid  the  wilderness  thus  desolate; 


304  BELSHAZZAR. 

City  of  Palms  !  I  lay  unto  my  heart 
Tliy  warning  words,  and  gird  me  to  depart : 
And  as  1  leave  thy  walls,  nor  wish  to  stay — 
Thus,  w'len  the  solemn  summons  calls  away, 
May  my  soul  q-iit  without  onj  ling'ring  sigh, 
Its  earthly  homo ;  and  seek  the  blissful  sky. 

BELSHAZZAR, 

I. 

Belsiiazz A?,  sat  witli  his  lords  around  ; 
And  his  eye  flashed  joy  at  the  music's  sound: 
As  he  dni.incd  from  tlie  goblet  the  purple  draught, 
And  liis  courtiors  gaily  the  red  wine  quafTcd. 

II. 
Superb,  on  his  brow,  blazed  the  diadem  ; 
Hung  halo  of  fire  round  its  ev'ry  gem  : 
■    And  his  jewelled  girdle  that  glare  outvied, 
Like  Orion's  bolt  in  its  lustre's  pride. 

ni. 
Lamps,  countless  as  bells  of  Ocean's  foam. 
Glanced  liglit,  like  nooa,  thro'  that  princely  dome  : 
And  the  banquet-board  with  its  glitt'ring  gold, 
Shot  splendour  that  sigiU  could  scarce  behold. 

IV. 

And  proud  dames  sat  in  dazzling  array, 
And  thoir  'I.\  rk  eyes  burned  with  a  haughty  ray  : 
And  their  forohcatls  shone  bright  as  the  sunlit  snovy, 
With  black  arches  cun^ed  o'er  the  stars  below. 


BELSHAZZAir. 
V. 

And  the  tresses  thick  of  their  ebon  hair 
Like  the  raven  ringlets  of  j'oung  Night  were  ; 
When,  smiling  o'er  gate  of  the  glowing  West, 
She  wooes  tired  day  to  his  dew}^  rest. 

VI. 

Each  like  a  queen,  on  her  throne  of  state, 
In  glory  of  gems,  and  of  rich  robes  sate  ; 
And  as  revellers'  shouts  waxed  wild  and  high. 
Beamed  beauty  and  love  from  her  radiant  eya 

VII. 

Tiara  and  turban  arose  to  view, 
And  tints  of  Tyre  enchantment  threw, 
And  o'er  wreathed  roses,  the  waving  plume 
Soft  shaded  the  choice  flower's  fragrant  bloom. 

VIII. 

Praises  to  gods  of  silver  and  brass, 
With  incense-clouds,  rose  o'er  that  gorgeous  mass  ; 
'Till  the  high-hung  lamps  showed  faintly  and  dim  : 
But  the  God  of  their  life. they  praised  not  Ilim. 

IX. 

Wiiat  change  hath  co:n.3  o'er  their  mirthful  mood  ? 
Wliat  fear  hath  fettered  the  joyous  blood  ? 
Spirit  of  horror  !  what  death-like  chill 
Shoots  cold,  o'er  each  heart,  its  icy  thrill  ? 

X. 

Yon  spectral  hand — at  its  touch  of  power. 
Withers  the  pride  of  that  festal  hour  :. 


JOG  BELSIIAZZ-AR/ 

Beauty,  and  valour,  uliko  turn  pale  : 
Strono-  liin'wtreaibl'3,  and  firm  hearts  fail. 

XI. 

Ilurk  to  the  trumpet's  terrific  sound, 

Echolns  fierce  its  knell  around 

Plasli  hostile  swords  tliro'  the  midnight  gloom — 

And  Belshazzar  sleeps  in  a  gory  tomb. 

Xll. 

The  Sun  looked  forth  from'  the  skies  the  n^xt  .morn  r 
But  a  dark  cloud  hang  o'er  that  city  forlorn. 
And  from  Babylon's  walls  the  banners  wide 
Waved  victory's  hues  o'er  hor  fallen  pride. 

..  xni. 

But  a  few  brief  years  soon  sped  away  ; 
And  the  Mede  and  the  Persian — where  were  they  ? 
Time's  stream  swept  on  with  resistless  flow, 
And  victors  and  vanquished  alike  lay  low. 

XIV. 

Glory  of  man's  but  a  fading  flower  ; 
Princes  descend  from  their  pomp  of  power  :■ 
The  peasant,  too,  loaves  his  humble  shed, 
Blonding  his  bones  with  imperial  dead. 

XV. 

Earth's  mighty  myriads  resign  their  breatli ; 
Yet  deem  not  the  vict'ry  thine,  pale  Death  ! 
For  precious,  to  Ilim  who  reigns  above, 
Is  the  treasv.red  dust  of  the  Saints  of  His  love. 


PETER    THE   IIEUMIl's   ADDRESS.  307 

XVI. 

The  clod,  laid  cold  in  the  chanic!  coll, 
The  dead,  tlat  Icwly  in  darkness  dwell — • 
Arrayed  in  beauty  vAiiich  ne'er  can  die, 
Shall  bloom;  when  yon  stars  forsake  the  sky. 

XVII. 

Oh !  mine  bs  swset  sleep  on  Jesu's  breast, 
When  this  frail  form  mouidars  in  lifaless  rest ; 
O  King  of  Kings!  unto  me  be' it  given, 
Too  change  this  jroor  hut  for  a  home  in  heaven. 

PETER  THE   HERMIT'S  ADDRESS. 


I. 
I  cor.iE  from  the  land  of  the  swcrd  and  the  shrine — 
From  the  war-swept  plains  of  Palestine; 
And  its  hallcwrd  hills,  wLere  the  vintage  sweet 
Is  trodden  in  dust  by  Faynim  feet  : 
The  wine-press  foams  with  a  purple  flood  ; 
But  that  costly  juice  is  the  Christian's  blood  : 

11. 
Where  the  Holy  City — iu  evil  I;our 
Shackled,  enslaved  by  the  Infidel  pow'r — 
Spreadeth  her  hands  to  Him  on  higli  ; 
And  lives  but  to  see  her  children  die  : 
The  daughters  and  sons  of  her  bleeding  breast, 
Trampled,  and  tern,  by  its  rag:)  nnblest. 


308  PETER   THE    HERMIT  S   ADDRESS. 

HI. 

Unscathed  have  I  sped  thro'  the  desert's  air, 
With  unsandalled  foot,  and  bosom  bare : 
Ujirolled  the  earthquake  its  waves  in  vain  ; 
Uplifted  t!ie  surging  sea  its  mane : 
And  demons  arose,  with  hostile  sway, 
Proudly  opposing  mine  onward  way. 

IV. 

Yet  dauntless  all  my  cor^ise  will  I  keep, 

Till  all  Christendom  thrills  at  my  summons  deep : 

Tho'  this  brow  be  scarred,  and  this  bosom  gored, 

By  the  steel  accursed  of  the  Paynim  sword ; 

Onward  I  speed  my  journey  afar, 

Reckless  of  dagger  and  scynsitar. 

V. 

Hear,  O  Heav'ns — wide  Earth — and  thou  Sea  ! 
Pve  sworn  that  Salem  sliall  yet  be  free  : 
Give  ear  to  that  high,  that  holy  vow — 
I've  sworn  by  the  light  on  Time's  ancient  brow, 
By  the  priceless  blood  on  Calvary  poured — • 
The  Christian  shall  be  to  his  rights  restored. 

VI. 

By  th'  unburied  bones  on  the  desert's  sand , 
By  the  loud  lament  of  tlie  tortured  land  ; 
By  th'  unsepulchred  dust — by  the  holy  shrine — 
Christian  !  those  walls  shall  yet  be  thine. 
By  the  deathless  spirit  within  me  stirred,  ^ 
Pve  sworn  ;  and  Hcav'n  hath  propitious  heard. 


PETER   THE   HERMIT's   ADDRESS.  309 

vn. 
Einparors !  speed  from  your  palace  bow'rs ; 
Nobles !  ride  forth  from  your  castled  tow'rs  : 
Sharpen  the  sword,  and  harness  the  steed  ; 
Let  Chivalry's  strength  bid  the  battle  bleed: 
Burnish  the  blade,  make  keen  the  dart — 
Till  dimmed  be  its  shine  in  the  Infidel's  heart. 

viir. 
Monarchs  !  ye  mighty  ones,  Oh  !  hear ; 
Lord,  and  liege  !  to  my  voice  give  ear : 
Prince  and  vassal,  like  ocean  deep, 
Onward — onward,  to  conflict  sweep  ; 
The  proud,  the  mean,  the  lowly,  the  high — 
To  the  help  of  the  Lord  draw  nigh,  draw  nigh  ! 


II. 

Spirit  of  War  !  I  bid  thee  av/ake  ; 
Souls  of  the  miglity  !  your  sleep  forsake: 
Battle  !  array  tliy  fearful  form — 
Thy  banner  black  cloud,  tliy  steed  the  storm  : 
Thy  breath,  the  blast  of  the  desert's  wind. 
That  passes,  and  leaves  but  death  behind. 

X. 

Meroz  !  a  bitter  cursing  was  thine  : 

But  a  tenfold  curse  on  him  and  his  line — 

E'en  to  the  latest  gasp  of  time — 

The  wretch  who  burns  not  witli  ardour  sublinic  ; 

Who  shuns  in  enacting  a  hero's  part, 

To  shed  in  this  cause  the  best  blood  of  his  heart. 

21 


310  JERUSALEM. 

XI. 

Woe,  woe_.  to  the  slave,  wliosc  coward  blood 
Boils  not  in  his  heart  like  Egypt's  flood  ; 
When  down  tlie  cataract's  awful  steep, 
Thunders  the  rage  of  its  waters  deep  : 
That  torrent  sinks  in  the  gulf  profound — 
So  be  his  name  in  oblivion  drowned. 

xn. 
But  glory  to  him,  the  blest,  the  brave, 
Who  wins  in  tliis  cause  a  warrior's  grave  : 
Brighter  than  dreams  of  the  poet's  brain, 
Triumph  shall  gild  the  bed  of  the  slain ; 
The  Chief  who  dares  for  the  Cross  to  die, 
Haloed  by  Ileav'n,  in  his  grave  shall  lie. 

xni. 
The  Cross  the  star  of  our  course  shall  bo, 
To  guide  us  to  glory,  by  land,  by  sea  ; 
The  Cross  shall  be  our  banner,  our  light. 
Our  beacon's  blaze,  our  flag  in  the  fight : 
Contempt  on  his  soul,  and  his  race  be  hurled, 
Who  fails  to  smite  when  that  flag's  unfurled.' 

JERUSALEM. 


I. 
Jerusalem  !  -thou  city  of  the  great  Eternal  King  ! 
The  spirit  of  uiinnmbered  years,  comes  o'er  me  as  I  sing ; 


JEHtrSALEM.  21 1 

I  view  thy  fallen  tcvv'rs,  and  tombs,  and  piles  of  ruin  grey : 
And   lliink  upon    tl>y  glorious  sons :   thy  children — where  are 
they  ? 

ti. 
Monarch  and  mighty  one  of  old,  prophet  and  royal  seer, 
Cliief  captains,  high  estates,  and  priests  of  princely  rank,  appear, 
I  see  their  wondrous  shadows  sweep  in  radiant  glory  past ; 
Like  clouds  upon  the  whirlwind's  wing,  wlien  morning  swells  the 
blast. 

III. 
Like  goldan  clouds  on  tempest's  wing,  when  sun  of  mofn  looks 

down 
O'er  waning  winds,  in  majesty,  with  seefilre's  sway  and  crOwn  ; 
When  from  his  palace  in  the  east,  his  beauteous  pomp  rolls  out ; 
The  storms  exalting  hail  him,  and  the  stars,  departing,  shoat. 

IV. 

Those  forms  of  light,  in  vision  bright,  float  transiently  away  ; 
But  lo  I  o'er  earth,  barsts  forth  a  sun,  at  whoso  omniflc  ray. 
Tlie    dead — laid    deep  in    dreamless  sleep — rending  the  silent 

tomb. 
Shall  rise  and  reign  a  thousand  years,  in  life's  unfaded  bloom. 

V. 

He  comes !  He  comes  !  o'er  Zion's  walls — plenteous  in  truth  and 

grace, 
To  gather  in  her  scattered  sons,  His  ancient,  chosen  race  ; 
Beauty  for  aslios,  oil  of  joy,  and  balm  for  ev'ry  woe, 
Jeshunm's  God,  to  her  loved  tribes,  shall  bounteously  bestow. 


312  TO   THE   BIBLE. 

VI. 

Tho'  enemies,  and  aliens,  long  in  her  blest  courts  have  trod. 
Unhallowed  hands  have  strewed  in  dust  the  holy  house  of  God  : 
Yet  now  her  chains  are  breaking,  and  the  dark   clouds  fleeing 

And  soon  lier  ransomed  sons  shall  sing — 'the  tyranny's  o'erpast !' 
TO  THE  BIBLE. 


FouKT  of  Eternal  Wisdom  !  while  I  gaze 
Upon  thy  waters,  and  behold  them  flow, 
Life,  beauty,  health,  dispensing  here  below  ; 
Thy  healing  streams,  and  Earth  her  youthful  days 
Renewing,  where  each  crystal  current  strays  ; 
The  light  of  glory — paradisal  green 
Enriching  her  where'er  thy  course  is  seen, 
All  bursting  into  bloom  from  night  profound- — 
Life,  lustre,  loveliness,  above,  around  ; 
1  pause — and  ask  myself,  in  sad  amaze. 
Why  my  soul  sinks,  why  blessed  hope  decays  ? 
Hast  thou  no  answer,  Soul  ? — 'Yea  !  I  have  slept ; 
The  whiteness  of  my  garments  have  not  kept ; 
And  therefore  droop  !'~Hear  what  the  Saviour  says, 
Desponding  Soul !  and  let  thy  mood  be  praise.. 
"Tho'  scarlet  were  thy  sins,  yet  washed  by  Me, 
"Thoushalt  more  white,  more  pure,  more  spotless  be, 
"Than  wool,  or  snow,  in  stainless  purity. 
"Come,  weary  ones,  to  me  :  quick,  speed  your  flight ; 
"My  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  light." 


TO   TnE   WORLD.      BCRIAL   AT   SEA.  313 

TO  THE  WORLD. 


O  Mockery  !  thou  false,  deceitful  World  ! 
How  do  we  clutch  thee  with  tenacious  grasp, 
How  closely  lo  our  hearts  thy  form  we  clasp  \ 

E'en  as  the  ivy  round  the  ruin  curled, 

Thus  clings  the  heart  to  thee,  e'en  to  its  final  gasp. 
TImu  art  indeed  a  ruin :  and  the  storm 

Of  desolation  o'er  thy  pride  is  hurled  ; 

And  dark  decay  corrodes  thy  fragile  form. 

Who  leans  on  Ihee,  leans  'gainst  a  crumbling  wall — ■ 
Still  tott'ring  from  the  top  unto  the  dust, 
Deceivest  thou  of  mortal  Man  the  trust ; 

Who,  when  he  hopes  thy  help,  then  chief  doth  fall. 
Vain  mockery  !  I  turn  tow'rd  Heav'n,  from  thee  : 
TAere  shall  my  heart,  my  home,  my  treasure  be. 

■\ 
THE  BURIAL  AT  SEA, 


I. 
The  skies  were  dark  wiih  dusky  night, 

On  outstretched  wing  the  vessel  flew; 
Upon  whoso  deck,  by  lantern's  light, 

We  stood — a  sad  and  chosen  few. 

Hundreds  were  hushed  below  ;  on  deck 
One  sleeper  slept  more  sound  than  tliey 

For  there — of  early  hopes  the  wreck — 
An  infant,  shrouded,  coffined,  lay. 

27* 


g,14  THE   BURIAL   AT   SE>J. 

in. 
A  fair  young  child,  whose  spirit  light 

Had  parted  on  the  wide,  wide  sea^ 
Taken  to  upper  worlds  its  flight, 

From  earth  and  ail  its  troubles  free; 

IV. 

And  we  had  met  o'er  that  loved  child, 

To  pay  our  simple  fun'ral  rite; 
To  make  its  bed  in  waters  wild, 

And  breathe  that  babe  our  last  'good  night '.' 

V. 

We  give  thy  body  to  the  deep — 

Sister  !  and  friend  of  youthful  years  ! 

Dark  is  thy  bed  of  breathless  sleep  ! 
O'er  ocean's  flood  rain  fast  our  tears  ! 

VI. 

Sadly,  belov/  the  sullen  wave, 
Thy  loved  dust  sinks  to  its  long  home ; 

Would  that  thine  were  a  gentler  grave, 
Where  storms  ne'er  rock,  nor  billows  foam  ! 

YII. 

Would  that  beneath  the  spreading  yew. 
Where  heaves  the  earth  with  many  a  mound^ 

Where  pious  hands  fresh  garlands  strew. 
And  wild  flow'rs  deck  the  hallowed  ground; 

VIII. 

Where  village  maids  bright  cliaplets  bring^ 
And  rosy  wreaths  to  i)ind  each  bed; 


THi:   DYING   B.iKD.  316 

While,  morn  and  e'en,  the  red  breasts  sing, 
Sweet  warbling  o'er  the  silent  dead — 

rx. 
Would  thou  wert  laid  in  gentle  peace, 

Thy  green  grave  roofed  with  grassy  sod^ 
Till  the  blest  morning  of  release. 

When  saints  shall  rise,  and'  reign  with  God  I 

X 

I  hear  the  sea -dirge  loudly  swell  ; 

The  depths  lift  up  their  voice  and  weep  :: 
Old  Ocean  tolls  his  hollow  knell — 

Dull  ear  of  death  !  'how  sound  thy  sleep  ! 

XI. 

Sister  !  farewell !  away,  away, 

Bounds  o'er  the  brine  our  fleet-winded  steed — - 
Tho'  time  may  bring  a  happier  day, 

Long  with  this  wound  shall  memory  bleed- 1 

THE  DYING  BARD. 


I'. 

The  star  of  the  dawn  grew  dim  on  high  ;'' 

For  a  fairer  light  illumed  the  sky  : 

And  the  sun,  attired  with  his  crown. of  goldj 

His  gorgeous  garb,  all  bright  to  behoWv 

Looked  kingly  down  with  a  royal  smile — 

His  courtiers,  the  clouds,  glad  gazing  the  while. 

A  dazzling  fire  over  Ocean  j/layed, 

And  the  winds  and  waters  sweet  music  made  ; 


316  THE   DYING   BARD. 

Laughed  the  green  Earth — her  heart  was  gay  ; 
Blithe  were  the  fields  :  nor  man  less  than  they. 

Then  rose  a  Bard  from  his  sleepless  bed  ; 
His  eye  was  bright — but  its  pow'r  had  fled  ; 
His  cheek  was  palo  ;  his  brow,  with  the  dew 
Of  death,  was  damp  :  for  his  hours  were  few. 
He  looked,  from  his  lattice,  above  the  sea  ; 
Whose  waves  on  tiiat  shore  rolled  wide  and  free  : 
He  gazed  where  the  orient  flamed  afar, 
Where  Morning  upwheeled  her  glitt'ring  car. 

'Tis  strange — the  eye ;  just  ere  life  be  gone, 
Oft  burns  with  a  light  that  in  health  ne'er  shone  : 
And  with  that  unearthly  fire,  his  eye 
Blazed  up  ;  as  these  v.'ords  to  mine  ear  came  nigh. 

II. 
'  Welcome,  bright  dawn  !  tlie  last  for  me  on  earth — 
Thou  herald  of  a  glorious  day  on  high  ! 
Refulgent  Morn  hath  gilded  all  the  east ; 
And  the  night-clouds  fleet  noiselessly  away. 
Welcome,  once  more,  thou  harbinoer  of  heav'n  ! 
Sun  of  our  world  !  whose  universal  ray 
Gladdens  all  climes  ;  still  bright'ning  at  their  hour 
Of  visitation.     Revels  thus  my  Soul 
In  glory,  beauty,  pow'r — foretasted  bliss — 
Existence  everlasting.     As  yon  clouds, 
That  fleet  before  the  golden  smile  of  morn. 
Thus,  from  within,  each  darksome  shade  is  driv'n  ; 
And  brighter  than  the  congregated  beams, 
Which  thousand  morns  have  shed  upon  this  earth. 
Swells  o'er  mv  soul  the  \vA\\.  of  Love  divine. 


TiTE    DYING   BARD.  SI 7 

As  o'er  yon  calm,  and  glittering  ocean,  play 
Tlie  white  sea-birds,  with  plumy,  noiseless  wing,- 
While  streaming  sunlight  gladdens  all  the  deep  ; 
Thus,  in  the  pure  serene  of  heav'nly  day, 
Thai  floats  around  me — hover  angel  forms. 
In  garments  fairer  than  th'  unfallen  snow. 

O  Eartli !  how  bright,  how  beautiful  thou  art ! 
What  hadst  thou  been,  if  Sin  had  ne'er  defaced 
Thy  loveliness  !  Ib  this,  thy  ruined  state, 
Still  beautiful  beyond  the  poet's  dream. 
Thou  Ocean  !  with  thy  white,  and  curling  waves- 
Each  with  its  sparkling  crest,  andsilv'ry  mane, 
Like  a  proud  steed — bounding  above  the  blue 
Expanse ;  that  seems  a  world  where  beings  dwell 
Too  pure  for  matter's  less  ethereal  frame  : 
And  thoii,  broad  sky,  o'ercanopying  all 
Beneath,  as  with  the  palace-dome  of  heav'n. 
Studded  with  stars ;  which  seem  the  watchful  eyes 
Of  spirits,  keeping  wan.  for  favoured  man  ; 
Ye  flov*''rs  !  whose  beauty  was  to  me  as  Heav'n, 
In  happy  childhood — when  my  days  were  sweet, 
My  dreams  of  paradise — if  mid  the  fields 
Or  'mong  the  garden's^beds,  I  caught  your  smile  ; 
E'en  from  tlie  simple  daisy  on  the  hill, 
Witli  its  young  offspring  round  it,  to  the  prida 
Of  plants  e.xotic,  in  the  hothouse  ranged  : 
I  loved  you  all — bright  transitory  things! 
Farewell  !  accept  my  parting  benison. 


318  TilE    DYIN3   BARD. 

Farewjlf!  I  stand  upon  the  voiceless  sliore' 
Of  the  dread  deep,  thai  all  must  one  da}'  cross  — 
And  view,  beyond  its  intervening  gulf, 
Worlds  fairer  than  the  fairest  realms  of  earth  ; 
Skies  brightoF  than  yon  dome  magnificent, 
With  all  its  stars  ;  blossoms  that  never  fade  ; 
Friends  faithfuller  than  the  beloved  of  earth  : 
Him, first,  last,  best,  Creator,  Saviour,  God  ! 

O  Thou  Redeemer !  by  those  bleeding  woundsi- 
That  wept  a  crimson  Hood  on  Calvary — 
Hasten  the  hour  when  all  Thy  Truth  shall  know  ; 
Earth,  from  its  utmost  bounds,  echo  Thy  praise  :• 
When  error,  sin,- blindness,  and  giiJliy  woe, 
No  more  shall  scatter  round  funereal  shade; 
But  all  be  gathered  in  Thy  fold.     For  me — 
Could  there  be  grief  in  Heav'n — my  soul  would  weep 
With  everlasting  woe  ;  for  all  its  sin. 
Baseness  of  heart,  ingratitude  intense. 
But  Thou  art  merciful,  and  these  forgiv'n. 
Now  take  me  to  Thyself;  and  let  me  be 
A  monument  of  mercy — which  the  blest, 
Wond'ring.  may  view  ;  and  praise  Thy  Name  for  ever 


N  O  T  3  S 

ox  THE 

MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Page  25G.     The  Defence  of  D:iTy.     Stz.  III.  line  3. 

Thehodi/  of  dieir pastor-clu- J  lay  rnould'ring  in  the  grave-; 

And  never  dosed  its  narrow  roof  o^er  patriot  more  brave. 

Tlie  Author  was  reminded,  after  writing  this  piece,  that  {he 
scone  of  Mr.  Walker's  death  was  at  a  distance  from  London- 
derry. But  he  very  readily  quoted  the  words  of  a  certain  writer  ; 
who,  in  a  similar  ca.?e,  replied — "no  matter — tlie  cUy  is  taken:''' 
and  so  refused  to  correct  an  over.sig'at  in  his  work.  And  in  the 
same  spirit  our  Poet  exclaimed — 'The  Defence  of  Derry  is  ac- 
complished.    The  Poem  is  written;  and  so  let  it  remain.' 

Page  275.     To  the  River  Trent.     Stz.  I.  lines  3,  4. 
Wlnier''s  r.xge  hath  come  and  gone  ,• 
But  no  bonds  he  had  for  thee. 

The  River  Trent  is  in  the  Colborne,  Newcastle,  and  Vicloria 
Districts,  Upper  Canada.  In  such  a  climate,  it  is  a  very  remark- 
able circumstance  ;  if  a  river  is  not  frozen  over,  so  as  to  bear  the 
heaviest  loads,  during  the  winter.  The  Poem,  however,  through- 
out, contemplates  more  particularly  that  portion  of  the  Trent,  on 
which  the  village  of  Frankford  is  situated.  Its  current  is  very 
swift  in  that  vicinity  ;  and  the  rapids,  witliin  the  space  of  a  few 
miles,  are  numerous.     At  Frankford  the  river  never  freezes.  The 


320  NOTES. 

Bay  of  Qainte  has  been  considered  by  geologists  as  the  cnihoa- 
■clmre  of  this  river.     Tlio  lake  referred  to  is  Lake  Ontario 
Page  286,     Caramania,- — the  ancient  Lycia. 

Pages  309,  310.     Peter  the  Hermit's  Address. 

The  Author  has  appended  a  note,  in  respect  to  some  expres- 
sions used  in  this  piece.  Tlioiigh  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Irr.e 
religion,  such  language  seemed  to  him  to  agree  with  the  'frantic 
fanaticism  of  the  old  Hermit.'  And.  of  course,  the  Poet's  desic^n 
was  merely  to  represent  him,  without  any  undue  colouring,  as 
acting  out  tlie  character  which  history  attrihutcs  to  him.  It  will 
also  readily  occur  to  the  Reader — that  Peter  had  been  a  soldier, 
before  ho  became  a  Hermit. 

Page  294.     On  Transcendentalism,     lino  2 

JEiquoiuVicum.     See  Horace's  journay  to  Brundusium. 

Pages  289 — 292.  Several  notes,  appended  by  our  author  to 
tlu'se  crhiques  on  the  principal  poets  of  ancient  and  modern  times, 
are  omitted  :  in  consccpicnce  of  the  limitatisnof  both  time  and 
space. 

It  is  believed  that  readers,  in  general,  would  prefer  that  a  few 
pages  should  be  occupied  with  poems,  which  would  otherwise  be 
excluded.     This  course  has  therefore  been  adopted. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


L9-50m-9,'60  (B3610S4)  444 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  370  092    9 


PR 

4759 
H61A.17 
1848 


